A Lady and a 'Gentleman'
by iambbq
Summary: Post novel - It all started with Emma's desire to accompany Mr. Knightley to the agricultural fair, along the way she made many discoveries impacted her in very profound ways...
1. To Be Apart

**A/N:** I, for one, have always loved Emma and believed that her intentions were (almost) always good despite of her meddling. And I loved that she was so much more mature by the end of the novel. But I always wonder what she would be like after her marriage to Mr. Knightley… particularly if she would continue to insist on having her way, and if Mr. Knightley would let her have her way now that she was his wife.

This is my second Emma story and also second story ever! I thank wholeheartedly all those who reviewed my first story, _First Holiday _and and those who added it to their favorite! There are several references from _First Holiday _in this story, which essentially is its continuation, but with a different plot.

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter One: To Be Apart**_

* * *

Since they returned from their holiday at the Seaside, Emma and George had continued their habit of sitting by their chamber's fire for a chat before they retired for the night. Even though the weather was getting warmer, a small cozy fire was still welcomed in this spring evening.

Emma was recalling her visit with her friend earlier in the day, "I visited Harriet this morning… her abdomen was absolutely enormous," she held out her hands in front of her body to show George how big Harriet's abdomen had grown, "Mrs. Martin said that she still had at least three more months before the baby would be full term… but she looked so miserable… I really don't know how she would bear the next three months…_poor_ Harriet!"

"My dearest Emma, I thought you had vowed that you would not sound like your father when it comes to calling any married ladies, _poor_…" George said it with a warm teasing smile.

"_I know, I know_…but this is true, you should see how tired she looked… her face, her feet, her hands were all swollen, she could barely walk…and when she did, she wobbled like a mother goose! Mrs. Martin said that with her condition as it was, Harriet would be bed-ridden until the baby came." Emma said it with the greatest sympathy.

"Well, I'm glad that you were able to visit Harriet this morning. I'm sure being confined at home must not be easy for her. Having your company there must have delighted her."

"Yes, she was very happy to see me… hmm… I think I should visit Harriet more often, and try to be useful to her and Mrs. Martin… at the least I could keep her company!"

"That is very kind of you, my love…"

All of the sudden George's tone turned quite serious, "Emma, there is something that I need to tell you." Emma immediately looked into his eyes with concerns.

He cleared his throat in an effort to hide the pang in his voice before he spoke. "I meant to tell you this earlier, but I did not want to distress your father, so I thought I would speak with you when we were alone… you were speaking of Harriet just now… "

Holding Emma's hand in his, his voice was gentle, "Robert came to me at the Abbey today. He spoke with me about Harriet… according to Robert, and as you had noticed yourself this morning, Harriet is feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. Robert was going to go to the annual agricultural fair at Brentwood in a week, but with Harriet's present state, his greatest desire is to stay by her side as much as possible. Going to the fair will take him away from her for almost a fortnight and… he wished he could find _someone_ to go in his place…"

Her brows furrowed, Emma did not like the sound of it, for she knew that '_someone'_ could only be _her_ George!

Emma was looking down and George knew she did not like the idea, especially as he had just returned less than a week ago from a fortnight visit at the Loughton fair, and that he would be going to the Kingston fair in two weeks. If he was to go to Brentwood for Robert Martin, he would be leaving home again in less than one week. No longer able to hide the pang in his voice, with a sigh, he continued…

"The Brentwood fair is an important event to Abbey Mill Farm. Robert would not have asked me if he had any other choice…"

Emma was quiet for a moment. Gazing at her lap, she took a deep breath and quietly uttered the next words. "…I understand George… Harriet needs Mr. Martin… he should be with her… you should go in his place…"

George gently pulled Emma to him and hugged her tenderly. With hesitation, he continued to break the next piece of news to her.

"…I received a letter from John today…" gently stroking her soft curls, "he wants me to pay a visit to him at Brunswick Square in three days…"

Pushing away from George to sit up, Emma looked hurt as she spoke, "So you have to leave even sooner than next week! What is it that John needs from you so urgently?"

At the moment, George felt as guilty as Emma was agitated, "…He wants my counsel on some investment speculation that he is considering. As you know, Emma… John would not have asked if he did not think that he needed me! It must be something quite serious for him to want to meet with me so urgently."

As much as she disliked the news that George had been breaking to her this evening, Emma regretted her over-reaction, she knew John as well as George did, and she was sure that whatever the decision might be it would no doubt affect Isabella and the children, "…you must go to John then, if it is an agreeable investment, you could support his decision, but if it is not, I hope that you would be able to dissuade him…"

George was grateful for Emma's understanding and thanked her with a wholehearted smile and a sound kiss on her forehead. She leaned over to hug George by his waist and sighed, "I guess this must be my toll for marrying an honorable landlord and a faithful brother!"

* * *

Shortly after breakfast, George had taken off to Donwell to meet with William Larkins. He would need to make arrangement with him for his trip to the Brentwood fair and also his visit to Brunswick Square. He would leave Surrey in three days and return in a fortnight. There would be much parish business to attend to in the next two days. He had several visits to pay to his farmer tenants and laborers prior to his departure. And there were also his duties of being a magistrate… Since his return from the Loughton fair less than a week ago, he had been meaning to spend more time with Emma… he wanted to take her to her morning walk, escort her to Fords to get laces for the socks that she was knitting for their niece, her namesake, and perhaps even spend the night at Donwell just the two of them… Now, these would _all _have to wait!

After Emma saw George off to Donwell, she decided to abandon her morning walk today - she was simply feeling too gloomy to leave the house. When George went to Loughton, Emma had missed him miserably during his entire fortnight absence from Hartfield. With him barely home for a week, he would be leaving again in three days. The thought of missing her beloved husband nearly got her sick to her stomach. She wanted to do something to cheer herself… she roamed around the house restlessly, going from one room to the next looking for things that would interest her. She had tried knitting; needling; rearranging the flower in the vases; playing the piano forte… she had even tried reading! Nothing worked, everything was _dull_!

She finally reached the drawing room, where Mr. Woodhouse was taking his morning nap after his breakfast gruel by the fire. Emma sat down on Mr. Knightley's chair looking at the fire with an empty gaze. She must have stared at the fire for quite some time, for she did not realize that her father had awakened and saw her countenance.

"Emma my dear, are you not well? Did you catch cold last night? The last few evenings had been exceptionally cold; you must tell Betty to add an extra blanket as covers for you at night."

"Oh! No, Papa, I'm feeling fine…"

"Emma my dear, you really don't look well, your face is so pale. I should ask Betty to send for Mr. Perry!"

"No, Papa, I'm not ill…no, I'm not… please do not trouble yourself to send for Mr. Perry. I'm fine, it's just that… George is going…" Mr. Woodhouse interjected before Emma could finish.

"_Georg__e!_" Mr. Woodhouse was appalled at the sound of Emma calling Mr. Knightley, 'George'!

"Oh! I meant Mr. Knightley, Papa! Please forgive me…I don't know what came over me… of course I meant Mr. Knightley…"

Emma was mortified by the slip of her own tongue! How could she forget! For years she had called their neighbor 'Mr. Knightley' and thought that she would call him 'Mr. Knightley' for the rest of her life. But three days into their matrimony, she had changed from calling him 'Mr. Knightley' to 'George' effortlessly. As she felt so close to her husband, she could not call him anything but 'George'.

George was extremely elated to finally hearing Emma called him by his Christian name, but little did he know that the subject of how his wife should address him would turn into a serious discussion on their carriage ride home from the Seaside…

"_Oh! Dear! I cannot call you 'George' when we get home…"_

"_Why not? I love the way you call me… You said it yourself, that you did not want to call me anything but 'George'!"_

"_But you know how the smallest change would depress Papa… I have, I mean we have, called you 'Mr. Knightley' forever, Papa would not approve of me calling you anything but 'Mr. Knightley'!"_

"_Well, then you shall call me 'Mr. Knightley' in your father's company."_

"_You know… that means I shall call you 'Mr. Knightley' at Hartfield."_

"_Yes, yes, I know, I know, 'Mr. Knightley' at Hartfield!"_

"_Wait… what about the Eltons?"_

"_What about the Eltons?"_

"_Were you not offended when Mrs. Elton called you 'Knightley'?_

"_Well… I wasn't really offended, although it was rather inappropriate for a lady to call a gentleman by his family name."_

"_Then, I must call you 'Mr. Knightley' in front of the Eltons to set an example by addressing my gentleman husband properly! You will be 'Mr. Knightley' when we are with the Eltons."_

"_Yes, my dear! You shall call me 'Mr. Knightley' when we're with the Eltons and your father and at Hartfield"_

"_Hmm, hmm… But wait… if I'm calling you 'Mr. Knightley' to set an example for Mrs. Elton…then I must do the same in front of others…"_

"_Oh!"_

"_After all, you are the Master of Donwell Abbey and the Magistrate of Surrey… you deserve the respect from everyone. As your wife, I __must__ set a good example for others to follow. I__ shall__ call you 'Mr. Knightley' in front of everyone, Eltons or __not__ Eltons!_

"_Hmmm… Whatever you wish, my dear... But will you not call me by my Christian name when we are alone?"_

"_Of course I will! You will always be __my__ 'George'!"_

For a moment, the thought of her husband and their first holiday together had casted all of Emma's melancholy away. Then an idea came to her as she continued speaking with her father…

"I'm fine Papa. Please do not worry on my account… I was only thinking of Mr. Knightley's upcoming visit to the Brentwood and Kingston fairs. He will be gone for more than a fortnight this time…and I know I shall miss him very much…"

Mr. Woodhouse gave a long sigh as he spoke slowly, "_Poor_ Emma! Matrimony is a sorry business! When Mr. Knightley was only our neighbor, he used to go away every so often and you never missed him so very much. Now that you are married, you miss him every time when he goes somewhere… _p__oor _Emma!"

Mr. Woodhouse could never spoke of matrimony without thinking of Isabella and Mrs. Weston; he shook his head as he said. "Matrimony always breaks up one's family circle… _poor_ Isabella! Mr. John Knightley had to take her all the way to London, so far away… might as well take her to the _moon_! And _poor_ Miss Taylor, removed a _whole-half-mile_ away to Randalls, how is an invalid to walk such a long way to visit Randalls… Matrimony is a sorry business indeed!"

"But Papa, we have our carriage to take you to Randalls… and Mr. Knightley and I live here, at Hartfield, we did not remove. Everything is just like what it used to be… and I did miss him when he was away even before we were married, I just miss him in a different way now…"

Emma's idea kept tugging at her heart urging her to speak. Finally her courage took a big leap and she decided to take the plunge. Cautiously she proceeded…

"Papa… as you had noticed… I always look unwell every time when Mr. Knightley is away… don't you think that it is a very bad thing that we should be apart?" She watched for her father's reaction as she continued, "…Don't you think… that it would be better that I should go with Mr. Knightley so I would _not_ look unwell?" There! She said it! She shut her eyes, afraid that her request might distress her father.

Mr. Woodhouse was silent. He was deep in thoughts for several moments. Then with all seriousness, he spoke…

"Emma my dear, I think you have a point! You _do _look unwell whenever Mr. Knightley is away. _Poor_ Emma! You should not be part from Mr. Knightley for so long that you would become ill… Perhaps you should accompany him to these fairs that he is going to so that you will not get ill."

Emma's eyes flung wide opened. She could not believe her ears. Her father actually agreed that she should go with George!

"Ah! But I am concerned… you know, my dear, these fairs are out of doors, you must bring an extra shawl with you when you go. And the air at the fairs will not be very agreeable, it will be better that you stay indoor as much as possible."

"Oh! Papa, _thank you_! Thank you for letting me travel with Mr. Knightley, that is so generous of you. I promise you that I will take extraordinary care of myself and Mr. Knightley!" Emma walked up to her father, gave him an affectionate hug and then placed a blanket on his lap and a pillow behind his back to make sure he was comfortable. Mr. Woodhouse resumed his morning nap as she left the drawing room and walked to her room to prepare for the trip. She was so overwhelmed with happiness that she had completely forgotten how gloomy she felt merely half an hour ago!

"_Oh_! I'm _so_ excited, I can't _wait_ to tell George tonight…"


	2. Disagreement

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Two: Disagreement**_

* * *

It was a very pleasant evening at Hartfield. Supper was filled with light hearted chatters and delightful smiles. George was glad to see the jovial spirit of Mr. Woodhouse, which apparently was a result of a very restful afternoon nap. But he was most pleasantly surprised by Emma's change of countenance, from being gloomy and subdued in the morning, to happy and animated during supper. He was thrilled to see the return of her radiant smile, and his heart melted every time when he saw that smile.

As usual, they escorted Mr. Woodhouse to his chamber after his nightly gruel. Instead of waiting for George to finish reading his agricultural report in the library, Emma bade him to join her in their chamber straight away, for she had something important to tell him. She could hardly contain the excitement caused by her father's approval of her travelling with George, but when she did tell George, she was surprised to hear that he disapproved of her plan…

"Why won't you let me go with you?"

"Emma, my love, the Brentwood and Kingston fairs are agricultural fairs, not pleasure fairs. We trade cattle, bulls, goats, amongst many other things. The landowners and farmers gather to discuss new farming methods, equipment and land improvements… I do not think that you would be interested in these particular matters." It pained George to see the disappointment on Emma's face, for only a minute ago she was happy and animated when she spoke to him of her plan.

"But George, I know these are not pleasure fairs, and I'm _not_ looking for pleasure! You have been telling me so much about Donwell, the farms and agricultural improvements during our chats at night, I want to learn more about them… particularly because these matters are so important to you… George, I am your wife, I care about things that are important to you! This is the reason why I want to go with you, to see them with my own eyes…"

"Emma, I know you care and I appreciate your desire to learn things that are important to me… and I love telling you everything about Donwell, the farms and improvements of all sorts. I always count myself the most fortunate man to have you to share with my thoughts and feelings… but… there is no need to trouble yourself with these places. I can assure you that you will not find them interesting."

"Why do you insist that I am not interested in farming matters? We have cows, sheep, and pigs at Hartfield…and I do take interest in how they are raised. I am not a farmer, and will never be… but why is it that my participation at these fairs so unwelcomed?"

"Emma, you ought to know that these fairs are for farmers and landowners and men whose livelihood depends on them. I would love to have you by my side everywhere I go…but such places are not for ladies. Please believe me when I say that you will not like them at all."

"So are you saying that only men are allowed to be interested in all matters farming, but ladies are not?" Emma understood and agreed in her heart what George had just said, but she did not want him to know that he was right.

"Emma, you know that is not what I meant. Society has different roles for men and women, not that we cannot change what society expects us to be, but it needs to be for the right reason." George had known Emma all her life, he knew once she started an argument, she would not give in easily. He had no doubt of her good intention and if it was appropriate, he would take her with him in a heartbeat. But he was honest with her when he said that the fairs were not for ladies.

"Emma, my love, you ought to believe me when I say that you won't like these fairs. There are cattle, horses and pigs roaming around, they don't smell nice…"

"George! You think that I am so naïve that I don't even know pigs do not smell nice! I may not raise them myself, but I _do_ know how they smell…" Emma did not know if she should feel offended by or laugh at George's words.

"I am sorry, Emma, I did not mean that you were naïve… it's just that… the _truth_ is most of the men at these fairs are not gentlemen… they do not treat ladies the way you are accustomed to… their profanity will make you uncomfortable…" George moved next to Emma trying to draw her close to him.

Emma was not ready to give in. She pushed herself away from George and walked over to the fire place. "But you _are_ a gentleman and you do not mind so much…"

"I am well acquainted with such kind of places and occasions, I have been used to them for many years."

"I can get used to them if I'm given the chance…" Emma thought if she would persist for a little longer, George might eventually give in.

George knew that Emma had made up her mind as well as he had made up his. He thought it would be best to end this discussion with his beloved wife sooner than later. In his decisive voice he spoke these words to her…

"Emma, my love, you know I love you, and you know that I'm serious about _not_ letting you go no matter how hard you try. You have to _trust_ that I know what is best for you!"

* * *

For the rest of the evening, they were silent. There was no fire in the chamber, and no lovers' chat. Emma worked on her knitting quietly for half an hour before changing into her night gown to retiring to bed. She avoided George's eyes the entire night. George tried to read his agricultural report at their writing desk, but his mind was too disagreeable to comprehend its words. He decided to join Emma in bed.

For the first time in six months since they married, Emma went to bed with her back _facing _George! She laid herself all the way on the edge of _her_ side of the bed. When George leaned over to say goodnight, she hid herself under the bedcovers.

George blew out the last candle in their chamber, laid on _his_ side of the bed and stared at the ceiling in the dark. He would never have argued with her if he could help it. He understood and was touched by her intention, but he spoke the truth when it came to the profanity of some of the men, he would not subject Emma to such circumstance. He knew she was disappointed, and angry with him, but he only wanted to protect her, as he had been protecting her _all_ _his life_. He could not remember when the last time his heart had felt this heavy. Six months of blissful matrimony did not prepare him for tonight!

Emma could not sleep – Although she resented George for not granting her request, deep in her heart, she knew he was right, and she trusted that he always knew what was best for her. This was why she loved him so much… for he always put her best interest before his, even when it meant that he had to disagree with her and allow her to be angry with him. She had never admitted this to him, but she had always admired him for loving her this way… and he had loved her this way _all_ _her life_. _But__…_she thought that her intention was noble and sincere… she just wanted to be by his side and understand his world. She wanted it so badly!

The battle between her heart and her will was tearing Emma apart. At last, she could bear it no longer, her heart rebuked at herself, "How _could_ you do this to him? He loves you _so_ much! He _doesn't_ deserve this!"

She turned herself around and moved to George's side of the bed. Instantly George took her in his arms and held her tightly.

"I'm _so_ sorry, George… _please_ forgive me!" Muffling her face in his chest, Emma was on the verge of crying.

"I'm sorry, too, Emma! Are you still angry with me?" His voice was low and tender.

"I _should_ _never_ have been angry with you… you were right… George…I'm _really_ sorry… " Even in the dark he could see her eyes brimmed with tears.

"_Shhh_! _Emma_… _Emma… _let us say no more about it…" He gently covered her lips with his finger to stop her from speaking. Then slowly he removed his finger from her lips and started…

_K__issing her… and kissing her… and kissing her_…

* * *

**A/N:** It was a relatively short chapter, but I thought it's appropriate to dedicate a whole chapter to what I consider as their first argument. I would love to hear what you think!

And no! The story is not over yet, this was really just an overture! :-)


	3. Portrait of a Gentleman

**A/N**: The last chapter only had Mr. Knightley and Emma, in this chapter, Mr. Woodhouse is back, playing a major role… his part in this chapter is a little "out of the ordinary", but hope I still have him somewhat in character! :-)

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Three: Portrait of a Gentleman**_

* * *

For years, Emma Woodhouse was known to Highbury for being an exceedingly attentive daughter to Mr. Woodhouse. Little did Highbury know that, Emma Knightley nee Woodhouse was as much a devoted wife as an attentive daughter. During their first holiday at the Seaside, George almost always roused first in the morning. But back in her domain at Hartfield, Emma was determined to always rouse before her husband so that she could attend to his every need. She would sort out George's attire first thing in the morning, make sure that he was dressed impeccably for the day's affairs; she would make sure that he always took his breakfast before heading off about his daily business; and that when he came home the house was in perfect order and ready for anything he needed.

As with all other mornings, Emma was fussing over George's hair, making sure his cravat was perfect, his vest buttons were fastened, straightening his lapel, wiping off the tiny trace of coffee stain, which no one could possibly notice except for herself, at the corner of his mouth just before he set off for Donwell. Many might think that Mr. George Knightley, the once confirmed bachelor would find having a wife fussing over every little detail of his life insufferable… as Mrs. Elton had once said to him after the announcement of his engagement to Miss Woodhouse…

"_Oh! Knightley! Poor fellow! Are you sure you want to get yourself into this marriage business? A confirmed bachelor as yourself must be used to doing whatever and whenever you wished! Once you're married, there would be the end of all pleasant intercourse with your friends. You won't be able to come to the Vicarage to dine with us whenever we ask you… It's a sad business for you indeed!_

George had long forgotten whatever that woman had said to him that day. So he was surprised that her words flashed into his mind this morning.

"Where is that smirk on your face come from?" Emma found the expression on George's face amusing.

"Hmm… I was just thinking that I must be the most fortunate man to have Emma Woodhouse fussing over me every day!' He said it with a twinkle in his eyes and a smug grin on his face.

"_Ahm__m_… it is Emma _Knightley_..." Emma gave George her entrancing smile that he always loved as she picked up the lint on his sleeve and announced that he was now perfect and ready to leave the house.

Emma walked George to the Hartfield front gate, and saw him off to Donwell. She finished her morning walk around the garden and returned to the house to find Mr. Woodhouse sitting in the drawing room by the fire reading newspaper as usual. As Emma sat across from him, Mr. Woodhouse put the newspaper down and spoke to her…

"Ah! Emma my dear! You look so much better today, the plan of accompanying Mr. Knightley to the fairs are very agreeable indeed!"

"Oh! Papa… I am sorry to tell you that I will not be going with Mr. Knightley after all."

"_Poor_ Emma! But you must go with Mr. Knightley or you will become ill." Mr. Woodhouse was very concerned.

"But Papa, Mr. Knightley and I had talked it over last night and agreed that it would be best for me to not go."

Mr. Woodhouse' tone had turned serious when he spoke again, "My dear Emma, what is the reason that made you and Mr. Knightley think that it would be best that you not go? I cannot imagine becoming ill would be the best thing for anyone!"

"Papa… Mr. Knightley said that fairs were not for ladies, but only for men…"

Suddenly the expression on Mr. Woodhouse' face changed drastically. Emma had never seen such an expression on her father before. It was _not_ an expression of distress, or worries… it was almost… almost a youthful expression! His gaze was distant… there was a youthful smile at the corners of his mouth… Emma was perplexed, what did she say that had changed her father's expression? What was it that her father was thinking?

"Papa… papa… are you all right?" Mr. Woodhouse did not answer for some time. Emma went to kneel by his side and placed her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Papa… papa… are you all right?" She asked again.

Mr. Woodhouse blinked his eyes as if he had just awakened from a dream. With a soft smile on his face, he answered, "Oh! I am fine Emma, I am fine…"

"Papa… what were you thinking just now? You had the most wonderful expression on your face… did I say something amusing to you?" Emma was exceedingly curious.

The same expression appeared on his face again. This time, he only paused for a moment before he answered…

"What you just said… reminded me of something that you mother had once said before… "

"Is that true?" Emma was delighted to have said something that her mother had said before.

Mr. Woodhouse nodded with his eyes closed. Emma was perplexed again, but she was afraid to pursue the subject in the fear of distressing her father by bringing up her mother's memory, so she kept silent.

A moment later, Mr. Woodhouse opened his eyes and said, "Emma my dear, would you be so kind to accompany me to my room for my morning nap?"

"Of course, papa! But you usually take your nap in the drawing room… are you not feeling well?"

"Oh, yes, my dear, I am feeling very well, I would like to take my nap in my room this morning."

* * *

Emma helped her father to the chair by his chamber's fire, and placed a blanket on his lap and a pillow behind his back as usual. Right before she turned around to leave his chamber, Mr. Woodhouse took Emma's hand and placed a key in her palm.

Being the Mistress of Hartfield, Emma had all the keys to all the locks at Hartfield - _except_ for the one that her father had just placed in her palm. She knew this was the key to the small cedar chest inside his chamber's closet and had always assumed that it held important documents of her father's bank accounts or stock investments. Never had she had the need to ask for the key or the desire to know what was inside the locked chest.

Emma was surprised at her father's gesture and curious as to what he wanted her to do with the key. Mr. Woodhouse motioned Emma to go to the closet and open the cedar chest inside. Fill with curiosity, she opened the closet, removed the small cedar chest to the writing desk by the window and slowly unlocked the chest.

To Emma's surprise, there was no bank papers, no stock investment documents… there were only a key and two small portraits… one of them was a perfect likeness of her mother. She had never seen this likeness before. Her mother was beautiful! Her long luscious eye lashes, her bewitching hazel eyes, her perfectly proportioned nose, her crimson lips all sat perfectly on her delicate face… and she had the most entrancing smile Emma had ever seen. The other small portrait was of … a young gentleman. Emma had never seen this portrait either, but yet the face looked familiar.

"Papa… Who was the young gentleman in this portrait?"

There was the same youthful smile on her father's face again. Mr. Woodhouse did not say anything… his eyes seemed to signal Emma to look closer at the portraits again.

Emma placed the two portraits side by side. She looked at her mother's and then the gentleman's; she looked back and forth between the two portraits for a long time…then all of the sudden she _GASPED!_


	4. Revelation

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Four: Revelation**_

* * *

"Papa, you never told us that Mama had a brother!"

"Emma my dear, you mother did not have a brother."

"But this gentleman had Mama's hazel eyes… and her long lashes… and her nose… although his mouth was partly covered by his mustache, it almost looked like he had Mama's mouth…" Emma had compared the facial features of her mother's and the gentleman's from their likenesses and was astonished to see the close resemblance, she was sure that he must be her mother's brother.

"Emma my dear, your mother was the only child to her father; she never had a brother in her life."

"Then… was he Mama's cousin?"

Mr. Woodhouse was amused at Emma's speculation and almost stifled a laugh. In return, Emma was pleasantly surprised by her father's countenance. For her entire life, she had never seen her father being _playful_… she thought there must be something unusual about the portraits, but could not gather what it was… what could it be?

"Emma my dear… let me tell you that _both_ portraits are your mother's likenesses."

Emma's heart almost jumped out at her, to hear that the gentleman's likeness was _her_ mother's!

"That is impossible!"

Mr. Woodhouse' voice was calm and steady, "My dear Emma, I told you the truth, they were both indeed your mother's." With a warm smile on his face he continued…

"You see, your mother was dressed as a gentleman when the other likeness was taken, that was all."

In complete astonishment, Emma asked, "_But_…_why_ would Mama dress as a gentleman? My Mama, a _lady_ dressed as a _gentleman_! _Why, Papa?_"

"Emma my dear, your mother had a very good reason… although it was a rather confusing one to me at the time. It took me quite some time to accept it. I thought it would be confusing to Isabella and you, and for that reason I never told you any of it." He looked into Emma's eyes tenderly, "… but perhaps I should tell you now …"

Emma's heart was beating uncontrollably, her astonishment had not subsided, but her curiosity urged her to stay focus as she listened to her father.

"Your mother was the only child to her father; that would be your grandfather. He used to have a large capital stock investment in London. There were many wealthy investors like your grandfather, who belonged to a particular society, they gathered regularly to exchange investment intelligence. Those were important meetings to investors and I met your grandfather at one of the meetings."

Emma had never heard of her father spoke of her _grandfather_ before, she was extremely intrigued by the story already.

"Your grandfather was a very keen investor. Most of his fortune was made from capital investments and speculations. Unfortunately…his health was slowly failing him… In his fear of having no son to inherit and manage his fortune, he was going to turn to an agent to oversee his investment." Mr. Woodhouse was distressed at the mentioning of failing health.

"Emma my dear, this is why it is very important to keep watch of our health. You grandfather used to eat red meat and cream _every day_! I had once suggested gruel for his diet…but he thought it was the most preposterous idea he had ever heard… _poor _Mr. Hamley…"

"Papa, what happened to Mama?" Emma urged her father to continue.

"Oh! _Yes__… yes_… stock investment was a risky business; if not prudent one could lose it all over night. Many investors who did not know the 'art' of investment turned to agents to manage their stocks. But there were many sly agents and very few honest ones. Your grandfather had always been excessively prudent with his investment and was a master of the 'art' himself. He was extremely hesitant to turn over his fortune to any agent, but he had no other choice… Your mother had found out your grandfather's concerns and had come up with a scheme…"

"A s_cheme__?_" Emma was captivated by this seemingly mysterious story.

"Yes, a scheme! You mother was a very clever girl… and you are so much like your mother, Emma my dear! She decided that she would learn the business of investing and assist your grandfather's management of his fortune. With your grandfather's guidance and her studying of the stock market, your mother had become quite an expert in a short time."

"But Papa… what did it have to do with Mama dressing up as a gentleman?"

"Ah! Remember the society I spoke of, where I met your grandfather? That was a gentlemen society that was not for ladies, only for men. With so much intelligence being exchanged in their meetings, it would be a great loss to any investor to lose access to the society."

"So, Mama disguised herself as a gentleman in order to access the society?" Wide-eyed Emma could not believe that her own mother had committed such a _daring _scheme!

Mr. Woodhouse nodded with a grin.

"Did anyone in the society ever find out Mama was a lady?"

"Your mother had attended the society with her father for almost a year, but no one had ever found out that there was a lady in their midst." There was a playful grin on Mr. Woodhouse' face.

"Papa… this was the most _amazing_ story! I would never have thought that my very _own_ mother disguised as a gentleman in order to help grandfather!"

"And papa, too!"

"You mean Mama went to the society with you, too?"

"Your mother was so clever at investment, she was infinitely better at it than me. After we were married, she helped me with my investment and continued to attend the society with me to get intelligence. A large part of our fortune was advanced by your mother's clever investment decisions."

"Emma my dear… This morning when you said, 'fairs were not for ladies, but only for men' reminded me of what your mother had once said. Your mother thought that a gentlemen society not for ladies, but only for men was an extremely disagreeable notion, she was very proud that her scheme had prevailed against such notion."

Emma was deep in her thoughts upon her father's words. A mind like hers, once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. It darted through her, with the speed of an arrow…could her father be suggesting that she should disguise as a gentleman to go to the fairs with George? Surely that would be a preposterous idea… _Or_ would it be? After all, her mother had invented the scheme!

"Papa, are you suggesting that I should follow Mama's scheme… disguising as a gentleman to go with Mr. Knightley to the fairs?"

"_Oh_! Emma, my dear, that thought had _never_ crossed my mind…" Mr. Woodhouse' mind must be churning as it was written all over his face, "…but that may not be a bad idea, for you and Mr. Knightley will not need to be apart and that you will not become ill. Not a bad idea indeed!"

Her mind was racing through scenarios…what would George think of this scheme… what if he disapproved… what if he got angry with her… what if someone at the fair found out that she was a lady… what if people from Highbury found out hers and her mother's scheme… Her head was twirling with too many 'what ifs', then she said it out loud, "I think I need a _good_ half-day to think about this!"

While Emma was thinking through the scenarios, Mr. Woodhouse moved to his writing desk to write a note. When he finished, he turned to Emma and asked…

"Emma my dear, do you remember Mrs. Thompson?"

"Oh yes, papa. Mrs. Thompson, Betty's mother… She used to be Mama's maid, removed from London to Hartfield with Mama. She married farmer Thompson from the Donwell parish after Isabella was born."

"Margaret, Mrs. Thompson, was the only person who knew of your mother's scheme. She had vowed to your mother and I that she would never let anyone in on your mother's secret. But if you decided to follow your mother's scheme, you could give her this note and she will be obliged to help you."

Mr. Woodhouse handed the note to Emma, gently placing his hand on his late wife's portraits, "My dear Emma… I have kept these portraits since your mother passed away as a remembrance of her, I have treasured them as my life for all these years… but now I want you to have them…"

"Oh! No, Papa, I couldn't! These are your precious memories of Mama… I can never take them away from you!"

With a warm smile he said, "My dearest Emma, no one could ever take away your mother's memories from Papa! They are always in here…" He lifted his finger to point at his temple. "Your mother died when you were so young… this will remind you how beautiful she was!'

"_Thank you_, Papa…" Emma gave her father an affectionate hug full of gratitude. She put the key of the cedar chest and her father's note to Mrs. Thompson in her pocket, settled her father in his chair with a blanket on his lap and a pillow behind his back, and bade him good morning. She replaced the portraits in the cedar chest, closed it, then carefully picked it up and slowly walked out of her father's chamber.

* * *

The revelation of her mother's past had sent her mind spiraling - Emma did not know what to think. She needed a clear mind before she could approach what course of action to take. Setting the cedar chest all the way in the back of her closet, she decided to set all thoughts aside and first finish packing for George's journey.

Emma always took pride in attending to George's every need, including packing for all his trips. Even though packing for George meant parting from him, she felt that she could feel close to him as he wore the clothes that were packed with her own hands. Since he would be gone for a fortnight, she was packing more clothes than usual. Each shirt, each vest, each jacket that she packed had brought a pang in her heart, and each pang in her heart seemed to present a greater temptation to follow her mother's footsteps.

She spent the rest of the day thinking of her mother's story, her beautiful face, her portraits, her courage to help her grandfather, and her clever scheme… Would she have her mother's courage? What would George think of it? Worst yet, think of her? _But_…she cared about matters that were important to him. She meant it when she said that she wanted to see those things with her own eyes. Her mother committed the scheme for the love of her grandfather and her father… would it be so wrong to commit an unusual act, extraordinary to be precise, for a loved one?

* * *

**A/N**: It is my belief that human beings are extremely complex creatures, that one could never accurately predict another's behavior or emotion one-hundred percent of the time. Our past experience, current situation and future expectation are all part of the formulation of our current behavior and emotions. Something that gives us pleasure at one point in our life could become repulsive in another, and vice versa. Therefore, I think to be "out of character" is actually "in character" if the situation calls for it... _All right_, _enough of my nonsense! LOL!_ I hope you didn't find Mr. Woodhouse too "out of character" being so 'calm and steady' when he spoke of his late wife's past!

And I also did a little research on women disguising as men in history… I didn't find very specific examples except for Mulan. But I did find many examples of women warriors who took up men's responsibilities to fight in battles and wars for their countries and families. Many of them fought as hard as and some of them were even more courageous than their male counterparts. Thus, I hope that Emma's mother's scheme is not too much of a stretch.

Thank you for those who reviewed! I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter! :)


	5. He was wrong

**A/N:** The sixteen years of Emma and Mr. Knightley's age difference never really bothered me, because I always thought that with Emma's intellect and sensibility, she must have the capacity to bring their judgment much closer after they married, and as she continued to mature. And I also believed that her desire to become worthy of him and his continual encouragement would eventually make her Mr. Knightley's true emotional and intellectual equal.

This is an entirely necessary fluffy little chapter with just the two of them! I would really appreciate hearing your thought on this chapter or the story!:-)

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_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Five: "I was wrong!"**_

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After the previous night's disagreement, the fire in their chamber made its way back tonight. Emma and George were sitting by the cozy fire, George wrapping his arm around his precious wife's shoulders, gently twirling her soft silky hair with his fingers, and Emma hugging her beloved husband by his waist, resting her head on his chest…

"Do you know what I miss the most when I'm away from home on my journey?" George was thoughtful.

"Let me guess… Playing with my hair?" Emma laughed.

George was laughing too, "Hmmm… I _do _love your hair, my love! And of course I miss _you_ the most when I'm away… but I also miss our time to talk and chat at night… when I was a bachelor, I was used to keeping all my feelings and thoughts to myself, I did feel comfortable discussing most matters with John, but I kept the most tender matters to myself…"

"And you would never speak with John about your feelings for me…"

"I was such a blockhead, I didn't even know my own heart until I thought it was too late… and no, I would never speak with John about any of it… but now that I have _you_, everyday when I come home I want to tell you everything, the things that happen and the people that I meet during the day… so, when I'm by myself at the inn at night, I long for the time to be with you and share with you my thoughts!"

Emma sat up, gazing into George's eyes tenderly, and said, "I feel the same when you're away… I wish you know how much I miss you and wish being with you… only if I could find the right words to describe it!"

After a brief pause, George looked into her eyes intently when speaking, "…My dearest Emma, I would like to speak with you about… our conversation last night…"

"_Hmm George… _I thought you don't like to renew old grievances!" Emma teased him with a smile and a raised eye brow, as she recalled over a year ago when she and Mr. Knightley had their disagreement over Harriet's refusal to Robert Martin's marriage proposal. They did not reconcile for days until the night of their Brunswick Square relatives' visit at Hartfield. Mr. Knightley was holding their niece, her namesake, when he said, _"…Tell your aunt, little Emma, that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing old grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now."_

The recollection of that conversation had brought a warm smile on George's face – He had kept himself away from his then 'old friend' for many days after their disagreement, for he was very much vexed by her meddling between Harriet Smith and Robert Martin; but if truth be told, he was thoroughly miserable during those days, for he missed his old friend's smiles, her wits and liveliness, their easy bantering… or just being around her… even William Larkins had once remarked that he was "unusually out of humor"! He would never forget how spirited he felt after their reconciliation that night.

Then in a tone full of sincerity and tenderness, he said to Emma, "I had been thinking about our conversation from last night, Emma… and I regret some of the things that I said to you…"

"What was it, George? I understood what you meant last night and I agreed with you…" Emma had always thought of his judgments and opinions infinitely more superior, she felt that he was always right.

"… Emma… last night I had said repeatedly that you would not be interested in the matters that went on at the agricultural fairs… I was wrong! I truly appreciate that you care about things which are important to me and I have always known that once you put your mind in learning something, anything, you would always excel at it. You had made it clear that you wanted to learn those matters because of me… I should have known that you were indeed interested in farming matters… I am truly sorry for what I said!"

Emma was deeply touched by George's apology; only a true gentleman would admit his own fault. She admired him even more for being so very honest and open with her.

"But, George… I know you only wanted to protect me, as you always do, that was why you said what you said, so that I would not insist on going with you!"

"Mmm, yes! It has been my natural instinct to want to protect you all my life… When you were a little girl, all I needed to do to protect you was to stop you from falling into ponds or getting stung by bees…," he couldn't help his laughter, "and when you turned from a girl to a woman, I wanted to protect you from getting hurt by your own meddling and _all_ prospective suitors…" It was Emma who laughed this time. "But… now that you are my wife… I want to protect you from _everything_ and _everyone_!"

He took Emma's hands into his and drew them close to his heart, "I don't know how to explain this, Emma… but it was… almost like an animal instinct… the thought of those men looking at you in even the slightest remotely indecent manner made my entire being tensed…"

"There aren't many ladies at the fairs, if there are, they are farm ladies and daughters who are there to help their husbands and fathers, so ladies are indeed rare at those places. But… after I examined my own heart today, I realized that the true reason I did not want you to come was to keep you away from those men!"

Emma gently removed one of her hands from George's to cup his cheek tenderly, "George, my love… I am truly the most fortunate woman in the world to have your love and have you protecting me all my life!" Her face was radiant with love and sweetness, "but I want you to know that I really meant it when I said that I cared about things that were important to you… I have seen the creases between your brows and the tired looks on your face! You have always been open with me about your worries and concerns, and I listen to you with all my minds and all my heart, but I can't help but regret that I cannot help you in some ways… My only wish is that you would see me not just as your wife, but as your equal, and that I could share your burdens with you in more tangible ways!"

George took Emma in his embrace, held her tightly as he would never let her go, "My most beloved Emma, you _are_ my equal! And I would love to show you anything that you want to know!"

"So… does it mean that you would let me go with you?" There was a hopeful grin on her face.

"Very nice try! My love! But the answer is still 'no'!" George burst into laughter for he knew it would not be his Emma if she did not try one more time!

"_But… _why not?"

"Because only heavens know how I might react when I see the look on those men looking at my beautiful wife! And I know… you are the most beautiful woman they will ever see!" He said it cheekily.

"_Ah! Mr. Knightley! _You have changed so much since we married, aren't you afraid that my head would grow too big to fit through the doorway?" She rolled her eyes as she teased him, and George found her playfulness adorable.

"_But_… If I were a gentleman… would you be willing to take me with you to the fairs?"

"Emma, my darling! You wouldn't be my wife _if_ you were a gentleman!"

"_No_… Of course not…"

"_Hmm… __What_ is it, Emma? _What_ are you thinking? I could tell that you're thinking of _something_… I hope you are not going to do anything that I wouldn't!"

"Oh! George! Upon my word as a _genteel_ lady, I promise you that I will not do anything that you wouldn't do!" (_"But as a 'gentleman', I can't promise you anything, hee hee!"_ she mused to herself.)

Knowing Emma all her life, George could sense her mischief a mile away. He knew something mischievous must be in the works, but he could not wrap his arms around it! The truth was, for the past six months Emma had been more than everything that he ever wanted in a wife; his heart was too tender to chastise her for any mischief that she might be up to; and he had to admit to himself that there was a very _tiny_ part in him that missed the mischievous Emma! But, more importantly, he thought that she was no longer an old friend but his wife - his equal - he must learn to trust and respect her judgment… He decided to let his suspicion go and treasure the evening before his journey the morrow with his precious Emma!

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**A/N: **Thank you for reading!

Sneak preview - in the next few chapters the story will take a slightly different direction to look into the past a little, I hope you'll stay tuned!


	6. Father and Daughter

**A/N:** I am always amazed by how different Emma and Mr. Woodhouse are from each other. With so much differences between the two of them, I could only imagine that Emma must be like her mother much more so than her father. And to be married to someone like Mr. Woodhouse, I thought that Emma's mother must not be a typical woman… this is my take on what Emma's mother, Mrs. Woodhouse, was like before she married to Mr. Woodhouse…

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_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Six: Father and Daughter**_

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With a longer journey ahead, George was taking the carriage instead of riding the horse. His trunk was already loaded onto the carriage by the coachman. After taking his breakfast with Mr. Woodhouse and Emma in the dining room, he and Emma escorted Mr. Woodhouse to the drawing room, settled him to his chair with his newspaper by the fire, George bade him good day and walked to the foyer with Emma.

As usual, before George set off on his journey, Emma fussed over his hair and clothes, but with much less enthusiasm, for she dreaded to be apart from him. After all the servants exited the foyer, George wrapped Emma in his arms and gave her a long lingering kiss goodbye…

"I will miss you… the Kingston fair will be the last fair in this spring, when I come back I will have more time to be with you. A fortnight will go by quickly…visit Harriet and Mrs. Weston as often as you can… and don't forget the socks for our niece…"

"_H__mm__m_… promise me that you'll take care of yourself! Be sure to take your breakfast every morning, not just coffee… Please send my love to Isabella, John and the children…"

As they started walking out of the front entrance, Emma muttered a few words…

"… George… Papa gave me two portraits yesterday… they were my mother's likenesses…"

"Were they good likenesses of your mother's?"

"Mmm… yes, they were very well done… but a bit unusual…" She really did not know how to go on.

"Oh… is that right? Why didn't you mention any of it last night?" He was curious.

"… I wanted to… but then didn't… and I don't know why… may be because it's still very new to me… or may be because I didn't know where to begin… or… perhaps I am still confused…"

"Why would the likeness of your mother confuse you? It's something bothering you, Emma?"

They were approaching the carriage as they spoke. Emma's stomach was in a knot feeling guilty and ashamed that she didn't tell George about the portraits. As she looked at her watch, she gave him a soft smile and then asked…

"Oh… What time is John expecting you at Brunswick Square?"

"He and Mr. Edinburg are expecting me at one o'clock this afternoon."

"… I supposed you better go… otherwise you will be late for the meeting… About the portraits… it's a long story, I will tell you all about it when you come back."

* * *

She saw him got on the carriage and off on his journey. As his carriage slowly disappearing from her sight, the guilt and shame that she was feeling few minutes ago continued to mount – Part of her regretted that she had not taken the opportunity to tell George about her mother's portraits the previous night, but for the most part she felt guilty and ashamed of not having the courage to talk to him about her mother's scheme and her thought of possibly following it. For one moment during their conversation last night, she had thought that if the true reason of him not wanting her to go was to keep her away from those men, then disguising as a gentleman would have avoided the problem… _but_ how was a wife to tell her husband that she could dress as a man and go places with him? How would a husband not be shocked by such "ridiculous" proposal?

"How could I be so stupid? How cowardice I am? So much for being open and honest with each other… I'm so sorry George… but it's too late now!" She muttered to herself with a long sigh!

Then she turned around and walked back to the house. Mindlessly she put her hands inside her pockets…

"_Oh!_ The key and the note to Mrs. Thompson, I had completely forgotten about them!"

"Mrs. Knightley, Mr. Woodhouse would like to see you in the drawing room."

"Thank you, Betty!"

"… Oh, Betty… how are Mr. and Mrs. Thompson? Are they well?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, Mrs. Knightley, Ma and Pa are doing very well. They are so excited about the new crop rotation plan that Mr. Knightley showed them, they think this year the farm will have a much better harvest than last year."

"I'm very glad to hear that!"

"Betty… do you think it would be all right if I pay a visit to your mother this afternoon?"

"Oh! Mrs. Knightley… have I done something wrong? I am so sorry… Please don't tell Ma, she will be very disappointed in me!"

"Oh! No, Betty! You did not do anything wrong! Your service to us has been most excellent the last four months, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Woodhouse and me are very happy with you, and we're glad that you are here at Hartfield."

"Thank you, Mrs. Knightley!"

"You know that your mother used to work for my mother many years ago, don't you?

"Yes, I do. Ma used to be Mrs. Woodhouse' maid before she married Pa."

"I would like to speak with your mother about my mother, if that is all right with her."

"Ma, Pa and my brothers are in the field all day, but Ma usually returns home at four o'clock to prepare for supper, I'm sure she will be thrilled to see you!"

"Very well then… Did my father tell you why he wanted to see me…"

* * *

After she settled her father for his afternoon nap, Emma and Betty set off to the Thompson Farm at Donwell on foot. On the trail leading to the farm, they met William Larkins.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Larkins! How are you this afternoon?"

"I am fine, thank you. Good afternoon, Mrs. Knightley. How do you do?"

Emma had known William Larkins her whole life. She used to run into him at Donwell Abbey when she and Isabella were children visiting the Knightleys. However, she could remember only speaking with him less than a handful of times. She used to think that he was the sternest man she ever met in her life, until the night when George told her during their holiday at the Seaside that William Larkins had been the most faithful servant to Donwell, his father and himself.

"I'm doing very well, thank you! Mr. Knightley just took off for London this morning…" Emma said warmly, trying her best to make a conversation.

"Yes, I am aware of that." William Larkins said dryly.

"Mmm… It is the fifteenth of May… you must be making your visits to the tenants to collect their rents…"

"Yes, Mrs. Knightley."

"Mr. Knightley had told me all about that. He said that it would usually take you four whole days to visit all the tenants in the parish and then you would be back to the Abbey to settle the ledger on the fifth day!" Although Emma said it with great enthusiasm, it did not have the slightest effect on William Larkins.

"… I'm here to see Mrs. Thompson… I think we better go in… so that we won't keep you." Feeling rather awkward, even with all her charm, Emma felt that she would never be able to make a conversation with this man.

"Good day, Mr. Larkins!"

"Good day, Mrs. Knightley."

* * *

Compared to other farms in Donwell, the Thompson Farm was considered quite small. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson and their three sons worked on the fields year round with no help from laborers. Mrs. Thompson's husband and her sons were still out in the field when she had returned to the cottage to prepare for supper. Betty showed Emma to the sitting-room in the cottage and fetched her mother from the kitchen for their guest.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Knightley, how are you? What a surprise to have you come to our cottage this afternoon!"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Thompson, I'm very well, thank you! Sorry for coming here unannounced, I hope I am not intruding…"

"Oh! Mrs. Knightley, not at all! Our family is most obliged to Mr. Knightley, yourself and Mr. Woodhouse! You are welcomed to our home anytime! May I ask how Mr. Woodhouse is doing?"

"My father is doing very well, thank you! Betty told me that Thompson Farm should be expecting a much better harvest this fall, I'm very happy to hear that!"

"We are so grateful for Mr. Knightley's help in working with us on the crop rotation plan this year. We are hopeful that our harvest will be much better! Last year was a bad year for Thompson Farm. We did not even get half the crops that we were accustomed of getting. We are grateful that you and Mr. Knightley were willing to take Betty into Hartfield as a maid. The extra income had helped our family got through this last winter… Speaking of Betty, I hope you, Mr. Knightley and Mr. Woodhouse are still happy with her…"

"Most definitely, Mrs. Thompson! Betty has been an excellent help the last four months. My father cannot praise her enough! He said that she was the only servant who knew how to fluff his pillow perfectly! You see, father is very particular about his pillow; he can't sleep if his pillow isn't fluffed right. He used to insist that I fluffed his pillow every night… now that Betty is at Hartfield, he no longer insists on me doing it anymore!"

"I'm so glad to hear that! By the way, Mr. Knightley was at our cottage yesterday, it was so kind of him to visit us before his journey to London. He wanted to make sure that we were following the rotation plan properly… we are so fortunate to have Mr. Knightley as our landlord!"

"Mr. Knightley is a kind and honorable man, he cares about the parish and his tenants very much; he would do anything in his power to help!"

"So very true…Mrs. Knightley, so very true!"

"Hmm… Mrs. Thompson… I am here today to bring a note to you from my father…" Emma took the note out of her pocket and handed it to Mrs. Thompson.

"Oh! A note from Mr. Woodhouse…" Mrs. Thompson opened the note and read it to herself. Once finished, she looked up at Emma with tears in her eyes.

"Mr. Woodhouse had finally told you about your mother! I had thought that I would carry her secret to my grave!"

"Mrs. Thompson, as you could probably imagine… I was in complete astonishment when my father told me about my mother's scheme."

"Hmm… yes, Miss Isabel, I meant Mrs. Woodhouse, had quite a scheme indeed…"

"Mrs. Thompson… for years I had known that you worked for my mother, but I was always afraid of asking you about her because I thought that would distress my father… but now my father seemed to be open with me inquiring after her, may I entreat you to tell me about my mother? What was she like when she was growing up? What happened to her father? What gave her the courage to do what she did?"

"Oh! Mrs. Knightley… Miss Isabel, Mr. Hamley and your father were always very kind to me, and now you and Mr. Knightley have done so much for our family… we are forever indebted to your family. I will tell you anything that you want to know about Miss Isabel!"

Mrs. Thompson invited Emma to sit on one of the chairs in the sitting-room and gestured Betty to bring in tea for their guest. Then she sat down on the chair across from Emma, and looked as she was searching her thoughts before she began.

"I started working for Mr. Hamley right after Mrs. Hamley passed away. Mr. Hamley had no sons and no other daughters, Miss Isabel was his only child and he loved her more than his own life, especially since Mrs. Hamley passed away. He wanted to bring in a servant that was a few years older than Miss Isabel as her maid and also her companion. Miss Isabel was about eleven, and I was sixteen, I supposed Mr. Hamley must have thought that I was at the right age, so I was brought into the Hamley's."

Betty brought in the tea and Mrs. Thompson entreated Emma to take hers while she took a sip from her cup and continued.

"Miss Isabel was the most beautiful child I had ever seen..." Mrs. Thompson paused and looked at Emma for a moment, "and may I say that Mrs. Knightley, you look exactly like your mother, you are every bit as beautiful as her! You and Mr. Knightley are such a match made in heaven, your mother would have been so pleased!" Emma smiled warmly to thank her compliment, particularly for her comment on her match with George.

"Despite the loss of her mother at an early age, Miss Isabel was a very happy child; and a very fanciful one if I may say… I supposed Miss Isabel had always missed her mother terribly, but with Mr. Hamley's love so great that she was always content even with just one parent!" Emma was amazed at how she and her mother were alike even as a child!

"As I said before, Mr. Hamley loved Miss Isabel excessively. Instead of hiring a tutor or governess to give Miss Isabel lessons, he had taught everything that he knew to Miss Isabel himself. Other servants who worked for the Hamleys before I did had told me that Mr. and Mrs. Hamley used to have quite an active social life. Mrs. Hamley loved dancing and they would hold dinner parties and balls at their estate regularly. But after Mrs. Hamley passed away, Mr. Hamley would rather spend his time with his daughter than his friends."

Emma thought of her own father who was like her grandfather in the regard of his love for her and Isabella. But unlike her grandfather, her father enjoyed the company of his friends very much.

Mrs. Thompson paused and took a sip of her tea and entreated Emma to take hers again.

"Miss Isabel spent so much time with Mr. Hamley that she hardly had friends herself…"

"As I said, Miss Isabel was a very fanciful child… Even though she rarely played with children of her age, she played with all the servants at the estate."

"She would imagine all sorts of jokes and pranks on the servants, they were always harmless, but some of the servants were not always in good humor when it came to some of Miss Isabel's pranks!" Mrs. Thompson stifled a laugh as she continued.

"One time, Miss Isabel sneaked into the kitchen, emptied all the sugar out of the sugar bowl and filled it with salt… the cook did not know any of it… When the servant served tea to Mr. Hamley after supper, he put what he thought was sugar in his tea… Oh! You should have seen Mr. Hamley's face when he took his first sip…" Mrs. Thompson could not repress her laughter anymore.

"He was furious, and all the servants were mortified! Miss Isabel was laughing so hard at the scene that Mr. Hamley knew immediately it was her doing… Mr. Hamley could never get mad at his precious child… so he joined her laughing until tears fell down both their faces!"

Emma was fascinated by her mother's mischief, and she thought to herself, "_I would never dare doing this to father, I can't imagine what his face would look like __if he drank tea with salt in it!_"

"Even though the Hamley estate never officially had a mistress since Mrs. Hamley died, the servants and Mr. Hamley took Miss Isabel as the mistress of the house and she very much governed the estate at a very young age. Despite all her jokes and pranks, Miss Isabel was a very clever girl; she got the mistress business down with very little effort."

Again, Emma could not believe the similarities between her and her mother!

"When Miss Isabel was coming of age, she refused to have a coming out ball… perhaps 'unconventional' would be the right word to describe Miss Isabel… she thought that the notion of announcing to the world that she had turned from a girl to a woman was most absurd! She thought that her life should remain private and she had the right to choose when to fall in love and whom to fall in love with, there was no need to bring undesired attention from anyone or anywhere… And Mr. Hamley had never objected to her refusal… I suspected that he would be happy if his daughter never married, for he would not be able to part from her."

"Even though Miss Isabel never had a coming out ball and the Hamley estate never received many guests, it was known to many in the London society that Mr. Hamley had the most beautiful daughter in all of London, or even all of England… soon after Miss Isabel turned seventeen, suitors started knocking on the estate asking for Mr. Hamley's approval for his daughter's hand."

"What did my mother think of the suitors?"

"Oh! Miss Isabel found them 'the most repulsive and annoying', those were her exact words! Marriage proposal and offers kept coming, but she would not have anything to do with them… and of course Mr. Hamley never thought that any man would deserve his daughter."

Emma was wondering how her father met her mother, for she knew her father was almost twenty years of her mother's senior. As her own experience of sixteen years of age difference between her and George would witness that age had no bearing on true love. And she knew that she and George loved each other more than anything in the world. She was sure that her father and mother must be deeply in love with each other.

"Father told me that grandfather's health was failing… when did it happen?"

Mrs. Thompson took another sip of her tea and then sighed…

"When Miss Isabel was… I think she was nineteen, Mr. Hamley's health started to fail. They had brought in doctors from all over England to see Mr. Hamley… they prescribed all sorts of medicine to him, but nothing seemed to help very much."

"Mr. Hamley's health did not fail him immediately though, it took more than a year for things to finally get very bad… but it took a huge toll on Miss Isabel… Mr. Hamley and Miss Isabel were the _world_ to each other. Miss Isabel broke down to tears every time when she saw her father in pain! But there was nothing she could do to help him!"

"How did my mother get involved in managing my grandfather's investment?"

"I had often overheard Mr. Hamley told Miss Isabel the reason that he had taught Miss Isabel all that he knew was because he had no son to pass his fortune to, and that Miss Isabel must inherit and manage his fortune like a son would. Even though Mr. Hamley had always managed his own investments and intended for Miss Isabel to inherit and manage his fortune like he did, he was hesitant to put the burden on her; he didn't want her load to be too heavy, as she was still very young and already the mistress of the estate!"

"But as his condition getting worst and worst, Miss Isabel insisted that her father would allow her to take over to ease his burden."

"And grandfather granted her request?"

"Oh! Mr. Hamley had no choice. At one point, he was about to turn to some agents… and was greatly distressed by it… that was when Miss Isabel insisted, and he finally gave in."

"Mrs. Knightley, your mother was such a clever girl! With some help from Mr. Hamley, she became so good at it, she even impressed her father!"

"What about the gentlemen society? When did my mother start going to the society with grandfather?"

"The notion of a gentlemen society was preposterous to Miss Isabel! She could not accept that the society would think that men were more superior over women at investing… but she could not help it for she would not be accepted into the society…"

"Mr. Hamley was distressed over Miss Isabel not able to access the society… for he himself had gained so much intelligence from it and made much of his fortune from the intelligence."

"So that was why my mother thought of disguising as a gentleman to penetrate into the society?"

"To be sure! Miss Isabel came up with the idea and persuaded Mr. Hamley to let her try. She had planned the whole scheme herself, she made sure she wore the right gentleman clothes, walked like a gentleman and even sounded like one…"

Emma had completely lost track of the time. When Betty reminded her that Mr. Woodhouse would soon be waking up from his afternoon nap, Emma said to Mrs. Thompson, "Mrs. Thompson, thank you so much for telling me these things about my mother… you don't know how wonderful it has been to finally hear her story. I wish I have more time, would you mind if I come again tomorrow to continue our conversation?"

"Mrs. Knightley, as I said, you are welcomed to our home anytime… Mrs. Knightley… do you know that many of your mother's things are stored up in the attic at Hartfield?"

"Yes, I do, but I had never been to the attic because I was always afraid that if father found out, he would be depressed by it… but… I supposed it is all right now…"

"You know… the gentleman clothing that Miss Isabel wore were stored in the large cedar chest up in the attic, I dare say that the chest must still be in the same place where I last left it… would you like me to come to Hartfield so that I could show them to you?"

"That sounds like a very good idea, Mrs. Thompson! Would tomorrow afternoon be fine with you?

"Most certainly, Mrs. Knightley!"

* * *

As they were walking back to Hartfield, Emma felt the need to talk with Betty about…

"Betty, thank you very much for taking me to see your mother this afternoon, I am grateful for the information that your mother shared with me regarding my mother."

"Oh! Mrs. Knightley, there is no need to thank me. I am sure Ma was very happy to be at your service."

"My father and mother had guarded this secret so well for so long… even though my father was willing to let me in on it, I hope that we will continue to keep this to ourselves… do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Yes, Mrs. Knightley, I do and I will never say a word to anyone!"

"Thank you very much, Betty, I am very grateful for that and I'm sure Mr. Woodhouse would be, too!"


	7. From Mother with Love

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Seven: From Mother with Love**_

* * *

As with all other Monday evenings, Emma had invited Mrs. Bates, Miss Bates and Mrs. Goddard to dine at Hartfield. And as usual, supper was filled with scrumptious creations from the cook, Serle, as well as non-stop chattering from their old friend, Miss Bates….

"Oh! My dear Mr. Woodhouse and Mrs. Knightley – it's so kind of you to invite us tonight, and every Monday night– we love coming to Hartfield, mother loves coming to Hartfield, don't you mother? She always has – oh, we are missing Mr. Knightley, where is Mr. Knightley tonight? – Brentwood! – it's unfortunate that Mr. Knightley is out of town, a fortnight is a long time – how I wish Mr. Knightley is with us, he is such a good friend – Where did he go? – oh, yes, yes, Brentwood, that's right – did I tell you that mother loves coming to Hartfield? She always has and I do too – so kind of you to have us here every Monday – oh! Jane wrote – yes, she wrote again! She writes every week… she always has since she was a little girl. We received her letter this morning - it was five pages long… FIVE pages! She and Frank visited the Campbells and the Dixions… they had a wonderful time! She and Frank are so happy – so very happy indeed – what a great match, Jane is so accomplish and so beautiful…and Frank is so handsome… no one is good enough for our Jane… except for Frank of course, don't you think, Mrs. Knightley?…"

Supper was followed by a game of backgammon. After settling her father at the backgammon table, and having tea brought in for her father and all the guests, Emma excused herself to go to her chamber as everyone focused their attention on the game. On any other Monday evenings, her mind would have been cluttered with words from the chatters of Miss Bates; but tonight, all she could think of was the conversation with Mrs. Thompson earlier in the day. As she stood on the landing on top of the second floor staircase, her eyes were drawn to the staircase to the attic. She remembered what Mrs. Thompson told her about her mother's things and the chest that held her gentleman clothing. Instead of waiting for Mrs. Thompson's visit to Hartfield the next day, she could not resist to take a look at them tonight.

With a candle in her hand, she quietly walked up the stairs and slowly opened the door. It was dark and cold with a musty smell - no one had been in there for many years. The room was nearly filled with pieces of old furniture - her mother's dressing-table, her linen drawers, her dresser, and the lavender floral fabric arm-chair that she used to sit on in the drawing-room; there were also some of Isabella's old furniture - Isabella's crib which was passed down to Emma and moved to the attic after it was outgrown, her first dressing-table and chair set, and her pink dresser; there were even some old toys - the wooden building blocks, Bilboquette, Cup and Ball, and the bride and groom dolls, etc, all of which she and Isabella used to play when they were children.

Lifting up the candle higher to get a broader view of the room, she spotted a large cedar chest all the way in the back, and thought, "That must be the one!"

She weaved her way through the old furniture, and then set the candle down on her mother's old dresser next to the cedar chest and discovered that the chest was locked. She reached into her pocket for the key that her father gave her, the one that opened the small cedar chest that held her mother's likenesses in her father's chamber, which now was in her closet.

"Hum… This is not the right key… " She was disappointed; then a thought dawned on her, "Ah! There was a key with the portraits… would that be the right key?"

She picked up the candle from the dresser, went downstairs to her room, removed the small cedar chest from her closet, opened the chest and took the key out, then went back to the attic.

"Yes! This is the right key." She was excited to have unlocked the chest and pushed the lid open.

"Oh… Mama's gentleman clothes… they've been in here all these years!" Stroking her mother's clothes ever so gently, "And her gentleman shoes… they are so much smaller than men's, must have been specially made for her."

Emma marveled at all the gentleman things that used to belong to her mother. They were all very fine and had been preserved impeccably in the cedar chest. There were three sets of gentleman shirts, vests, waistcoats, and trousers, two pairs of gentleman shoes, a wig, a top hat and… a small package wrapped in an exquisite light blue silk scarf.

Wondering what gentleman item could be wrapped up in such an exquisite scarf, she gently removed the package from the chest, set it on the dresser next to the candle, and then un-wrapped the package - there were two small bundles inside the package, one tied with a very pretty laced pink ribbon, the other with the same patterned laced ribbon but in the color yellow. She picked up one of the bundles and turned it around in her hand to examine what it was.

"Mmmm… these look like letters…" She could not believe herself when she realized that, "Oh! These are letters from Mama to me and Isabella! Pink used to be Isabella's favorite color… Mama tied her letters to Isabella with pink ribbon and mine with yellow, which was my favorite color when I was a little girl!"

Emma was surprised beyond words to see letters addressed to her and Isabella in her mother's handwriting - she wanted to open her letters immediately. As she was untying the bundle, she thought that she ought to check the time on her watch, "Oh… It's eight o'clock, they must be leaving and father will need his gruel soon."

Quickly tying her letters back in a bundle and wrapping both bundles with the silk scarf, she closed the cedar chest lid and locked the chest back up, then picked up the candle and the wrapped package and left the attic. Before returning downstairs to her father and their guests, she went into her chamber to set the package on the small table next to her side of the bed.

* * *

Emma sent Mrs. Bates, Miss Bates and Mrs. Goddard off with James in their carriage, waited for her father to finish his gruel as patiently as she could, escorted him to his chamber and settled him in bed; then immediately retiring to her own chamber and changing into her nightgown before climbing into bed.

When George was at home, she would never stay on her side of the bed, except two nights ago when she was angry with him. They always cuddled and she would fall asleep either in his arms or right next to him. Tonight, she sat alone on her side of the bed, missing him. Hugging his pillow close to herself and gazing at her mother's letters, she said, "Goodnight, George, I know you can't hear me, but I want to tell you that I miss you! Mama will keep me company tonight and I will tell you all about her when you come home."

After putting down the pillow, she un-wrapped the small package, untied the yellow ribbon bundle and took the letter on top in her hand. The anticipation of reading her mother's words caused her hands to tremble. She wondered when her mother wrote these letters, why she wrote them, what she wanted to say to Emma before her passing that never made it to her until tonight.

Slowly she unfolded the letter and started reading…

_

* * *

_

February _20__th__, 1798_

_Hartfield_

_My dearest Emma,_

_Today is your fourth birthday, my little angel!_ **(Her mother used to call her 'little angel' all the time. But Emma had not heard her voice for too long and forgotten what she sounded like. At the sight of her words, she could almost hear her mother calling her 'little angel' again!) **_Mama has decided to start writing to you and Isabella, because I don't think I will be with you, Isabella and Papa for very long. And I think by the time you are able to read this letter all by yourself, Mama has gone to be with your Grandpapa way up high in heaven where you can't see us. But please be assured that Mama and Grandpapa can always see you and watch over you wherever you are. _**(Emma nodded, for she had always believed that her mother was watching over her no matter where she was.)**

_I can't believe you are already four! I know every mother says the same thing that it was like yesterday when her child was born, but it is true! It really feels like it was yesterday when you were born… did you know that you looked like a little prune when you came out of Mama's womb? _**(A warm smile came onto Emma's face as she said amusingly "Really?") **_When you were born, you only had a few strands of blonde hair on top of your little head, with long legs and arms and a dark wrinkled face; other than the first cry to clear your lungs, there's never much tears coming out of those bright little eyes of yours! _

_You look so different now... I don't know how you went from nearly bald-headed at the age of one to a mass of long blonde curls at four! And your little dark wrinkled face was long gone, everyone says you have the most beautiful, angelic face they have ever seen, and I have to agree with them… but as your Mama, I think I'm allowed to be a little partial, don't you think? _**(With a bright smile Emma nodded.)**

_Both Papa and Mama were very surprised at how different you were from Isabella as a newborn. You and Isabella were the complete opposites – Isabella had a full head of brown hair, with chubby little arms and legs, and a ferocious cry when she was born. Even now, you and Isabella are different in many ways… sometimes I still wonder how could two children from the same set of parents be so different! Isabella is very much like your Papa both in body and spirit, while you, I think, is more like me, my little muffin. Isabella is gentle and delicate, where you are lively and clever; Isabella is serious and focus, while you, even at age four, have a great sense of humor and are already contrive; Isabella enjoys quiet plays such as reading, sewing, playing the piano forte, but you love being a little busybody and the center of attention. In spite of all your differences, Mama and Papa love you both the same, and I'm so happy to see that you two love each other dearly and share the same kind-heartedness that your Papa has._

_There is one thing I must tell you, my little Emma – it doesn't matter what you look like on the outside, it is what's inside that matters the most! At age four, you are too young to understand this, but when you get older, you will learn that a kind heart is much more beautiful than a pretty face. Your Papa is the most generous and charitable man I ever know. He has the kindest heart any man could ever have and that is why I love your Papa so much; and I am certain that he will set a wonderful example for you and Isabella to follow as you grow! _**(Emma agreed wholeheartedly with her mother, for she and Isabella had witnessed her father's kindness and generosity their whole lives. And they indeed had strived to be like their father in giving and helping those in need around them.)**

_With endless love and kisses,_

_Mama_

_

* * *

_

For years Emma had wondered what it was like to have a mother, to have a taste of her mother's love – how sweet and wonderful it was to have tasted it tonight! She could sense that every word in the letter was written with the deepest love and affection from her mother. Pressing the letter to her heart, never had she felt so close to her mother for as long as she could remember!

She couldn't wait to read more – gently unfolding another letter from the bundle, expectantly she read on…

_

* * *

_

March 15 _th__, 1798_

_Hartfield_

_My dearest Emma,_

_It's Mama again, my little angel! I hope you like reading my letters. _**("Oh! Mama, I love reading your letters, you don't know how precious they are to me!" Emma whispered earnestly.) **_It__ has been very comforting for me to know that one day you'll be reading my words after I have gone to be with Grandpapa. You won't see my person, but you'll always have my letters to remind you of my love for you!_

_It was very kind of Mrs. Knightley and Mr. John to visit us today. It's always a delight to have the Knightleys at Hartfield, and Mama has a great admiration for the kind Mrs. Knightley. Ever since Mr. Knightley's sudden passing eighteen months ago, Mrs. Knightley has been holding down the Knightley family on her own; she has always been the most gracious lady I ever met, but witnessing her quiet strength the last year and a half truly has been an honor. I still remember the first time I met Mr. and Mrs. Knightley… it was at their Christmas Eve dinner party, only the second day after I removed to Highbury from London. I had never met such kind and unpretentious people before; and my first impression of Mrs. Knightley was that she was a true beauty inside and out; never in my life have I met a lady who's more beautiful and graceful!_

_The Woodhouses and the Knightleys have been friends and neighbors for generations. Mr. Knightley was your Papa's best friend all his life, as anyone could imagine, losing him was extremely difficult to your Papa. I'm very grateful for Mr. Young George Knightley, perhaps I should call him Mr. Knightley now that he's at age twenty, after his father's passing, despite his own grieve over the death of his father, Mr. Knightley knew your Papa was missing his father immensely, so he visited your Papa regularly, spending time with him, talking to him as his father used to do until he had to leave for Oxford for his education. I really don't know how low your Papa would have sunk under if not for the comfort and kind attention from Mr. Knightley! _**(Emma was excited to see how fondly her mother thought of George, "You know, Mama, George has been wonderful to Papa all these years, he resumed his visits to Papa as soon as he came back from Oxford!")**

_Mama no longer has the strength to leave the house, and it is so kind and thoughtful of Mrs. Knightley to visit us almost every other day. Mr. John has been coming with Mrs. Knightley during their visits. I remember the first time I met Mr. John… it was two days after the Christmas Eve dinner party, your Papa and I were visiting the Knightleys to inquire after Young George, for he had a mild cold two days prior which prevented him from attending the Christmas Eve dinner party with us. Little John had turned one two months before, and was just able to walk by himself. He __gave __your Papa__ a fright when he grabbed the tray of tea biscuits and threw it __on__to the floor. Mr. and Mrs. Knightley were very sorry that he wasn't __caught in__ time__, and explained that Little John__ was getting__ frustrated for not able to take hold of__ the teapot on the other side of the table thu__s threw a little temper tantrum. Mrs. Knightley __said that__ the two brothers were very different, because__ Young George would never do that when he was at the same age, for he would have gone around the table to get to the teapot__ instead. _**(Emma smiled in amusement, "I supposed the two Knightley brothers haven't changed that much since they were one!") **_Both Mr. and Mrs. Knightley __had such a__ wonderful lo__ving attitude, they said that their children were special__ in__ their own __ways and__ they loved them __both__ the same.__ Now that I have you and Isabella as living examples, I cannot agree with them more!_

_Mr. John is no longer a little toddler, he is now a young man of thirteen. He and Isabella have become very good friends. Even though he could still be temperamental at times, Mr. John is always very gentle with Isabella, it's very nice to see him treating Isabella as a young gentleman to a young lady; he even played tea-party with Isabella! Isn't it precious? Sometimes I wonder what will become of Mr. John and Isabella in a few years! _**("Ah! Mama, were you matchmaking John and Isabella?" Emma thought that her mother would have been happy to know that John and Isabella did fall in love and marry ten years after she wrote this letter.)**

_And you, my little darling, with your angelic face and sparkling hazel eyes and a smile that can cast away all glooms, steals everyone's heart! Needless to say that you have stolen Mama and Papa's hearts the moment you were born, but even Mrs. Knightley can't take her eyes off of you whenever she sees you. She keeps saying that if she had a daughter, she would have wanted her to be just like you. You charming little one! _**(The thought of George's mother, her mother-in-law, who adored her as a child, probably would have approved of her match with George delighted Emma tremendously.)**

_I could tell that even Mr. Knightley finds you irresistible - Every time when he comes to visit after returning from Oxford between school-semesters, he spends half his time with Papa and the other half talking, reading or playing with you. I am amazed at the patience he has with a four year old child; and you know… you do try one's patience at times with your endless questions of why, why not, what is it, what are you doing, etc. Both Mrs. Knightley and I find it amusing to listen in on your conversations with Mr. Knightley, at age four you could carry on a lengthy conversation that's well beyond your years, and I could tell that Mr. Knightley is really taken by your cleverness and enjoys chatting with you very much like he would with an adult. The age difference of sixteen years makes no difference on your friendship… but this could change soon in the future, my little Emma. Mr. Knightley will be at the age of meeting ladies soon, and one day some lucky woman will be capturing his heart, and I hope you won't be disappointed when he can't be your friend anymore. _**("But Mama… Mr. Knightley never ceased being my friend; and I am the lucky woman who captures his heart! Not only that we are best friends, we are husband and wife now! Isn't it wonderful?" Although her mother could not have foretold Mr. Knightley falling in love with her little girl at the time when she wrote this letter, Emma was certain that she could see all that had happened on earth from heaven above.)**

_My dearest Emma, Margaret was my only friend when I was growing up, and I had always felt fortunate to have even one friend. Since I've removed to Highbury, I have been blessed with kind friends like the Bates, and especially the Knightleys. They have treated and loved us like their own family, which has taught me the importance of genuine friendship. As you continue to grow, you'll have your own friends, Emma, and it is my sincere hope that you will always treasure your friendships, and treat all your friends with truth and sincerity, and love them as you would your very own family._

_With eternal love and affection,_

_Mama_

* * *

Upon her mother's counsel on friendship, Emma realized that she herself scarcely had friends when she was growing up. Although all her life she had been blessed with Mr. Knightley being there for her as her friend, advisor, and now husband, as for having friends of her age and sex, she really was like her mother. She thought of Isabella, for her first thirteen years, her dear sister had given her everything that she needed in a friend as well as an older sister; she thought of Miss Taylor, who had been her dear friend and companion after Isabella married and removed to London, until she married Mr. Weston; she thought of Jane Fairfax, whom she was never fond of to befriend with when they were girls, but everyone, including Mr. Knightley, thought would be the perfect choice of friend for her because of her age and accomplishments. Then she came to think of Harriet… she felt ashamed of herself that for almost the entire first year of their friendship, her meddling had done more harm than good to her friend – first she persuaded Harriet to refuse Mr. Robert Martin's marriage proposal, then she led her to believe that Mr. Elton was in love with her! She was grateful that through fate no lasting injuries were committed to Harriet by herself, nonetheless her heart was greatly troubled by the thought of her own blunders; how she wished her mother was alive to instill these principles in her when she was young – they might have prevented her from committing all her follies.

She could not help to turn back time, but she was thankful that at least her mother's guidance had found its way to her at last, and she vowed to live by it the best she could from this night forward. Pressing a kiss gently on the letter, she quietly thanked her mother for her love and teaching before setting the letter down and putting out the candle next to her bed to retire for the night.

* * *

**A/N:** Several years ago I read an article on the true story of a dying mother with a two year old daughter. She was stricken with terminal cancer and all she wanted was for her daughter to know how much she loved her. She recorded many messages with a video camera over the course of her remaining life and left special messages for her daughter to view as she grew. The article did not go into the content of the messages, but I was deeply touched by the story, and it was the inspiration of Mrs. Woodhouse' letters to Emma.


	8. Sixteen Miles Apart

"_With all dear Emma's little faults, she is an excellent creature. Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder sister, or a truer friend? No, no; she has qualities which may be trusted; she will never lead anyone really wrong; she will make no lasting blunder; where Emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred times."_

_Mrs. Weston_

'_Emma', Chapter 5_

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Eight: Friends and Family**_

_**

* * *

**_

When the next morning came Emma was still amazed by her discoveries from the previous night – never had she imagined that she would discover her mother's letters to her and Isabella eighteen years after they were written. She was certain that the letters were kept away in the cedar chest along with her mother's gentleman items by her father. She gathered that her father must have known that she would find the letters eventually because the key to the cedar chest, in which the letters were kept, was placed with her mother's portraits which were given to her by her father. Nonetheless, she was afraid that he would be depressed by the thought of his late wife's letters, so she decided to delay the disclosure of her discovery to him for the time being.

After breakfast, she accompanied Mr. Woodhouse to his morning walk around the garden, then settled him to his arm-chair by the fire with his newspaper, a pillow behind his back and a blanket on his lap, and then bade him good morning to walk to Abbey-Mill-Farm to visit Harriet – to carry on a mission that she had resolved to achieve this morning.

It had been several days since Emma last saw her friend, as she was shown into the sitting-room of the Martins' home, Harriet was leaning on the large arm-chair, with Mr. Robert Martin by her side holding her hand in his.

"Good morning, Mrs. Knightley!" With a warm smile, Robert Martin rose to bow as Emma entering the sitting-room.

"Good morning, Mr. Martin!" Emma curtsied gracefully and thought to herself how happy Robert Martin looked this morning – as often as she visited Harriet since their union, Emma seldom ran into him during her visits; and when she did, his manner to her was usually reserved and he was quick to leave the house. She was extremely delighted to see the warm smile on Robert Martin's face this morning.

"Good morning, Harriet!" She turned to face Harriet with her bright warm smile, "You are looking very well this morning; I see that your lovely smile has returned, you must be feeling better!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Knightley!" Harriet tried to sit up on the arm-chair with her husband's help, "Thank you so much for your compliment, I am indeed feeling much better this morning. Robert has been able to spend more time with me… I think having him around more is making me feeling better!" The mother-to-be blushed prettily as she gazed into her husband's eyes, and the same shade of blush appeared on Robert Martin's face as he sweetly returning the gaze.

"Yes, Mrs. Knightley - I want to thank you for agreeing Mr. Knightley to take my place to go to the Brentwood fair, which allows me to be by Harriet's side instead of being away. I know Mr. Knightley has been away often lately, going to the Brentwood fair for me takes him away even more… I'm truly grateful for your understanding!" Robert Martin said it with sincerity and gratitude.

"Mr. Martin, there is no need to thank me. As you know very well, Mr. Knightley would never turn down a friend in need. This is an important time for both of you - expecting a child of your own! Mr. Knightley and I are both very happy that you're able to stay close to Harriet during this time!" Although she had been missing George wretchedly, seeing how happy the parents-to-be were, Emma felt in the depth of her heart that the happiness of her friends was well worth the little sacrifice she made.

"Mrs. Knightley, if you would pardon me, I think it's time I should go to the farm… as much as I want to stay with Harriet, the farm needs me there." Robert Martin bowed and bade Emma good day before exiting his home.

"Good day, Mr. Martin!" Emma curtsied warmly before turning to Harriet.

"Harriet! Look what I brought you from Hartfield…" Excitedly she lifted the plaid towel off from the basket and showed her friend the three jars of apple butter specially made at the Hartfield kitchen with the famous Donwell orchard apples.

"Oh! Mrs. Knightley… My favorite Hartfield apple butter!" Harriet's dreamy eyes were filled with tears when she spoke. Emma thought it was very strange that the sight of apple butter could bring tears to her friend's eyes!

"You don't know how much I've been craving for Hartfield's apple butter!" Harriet took a jar out of the basket with both hands and held it close to her heart as she continued. "I've been craving for the strangest things ever since I am with child! All I want lately is apple butter, and it's not just _any_ apple butter, it _has_ to be Hartfield's apple butter! Oh! Thank you _so much _for bringing me _three_ jars!"

"I'm so glad you love our apple butter, Harriet!' Emma said enthusiastically. "But I hope that you'll be craving for something else soon, because these were made from the last batch of Donwell apples… I told Mr. Knightley how much you like our apple butter, so he asked his staffs at Donwell to send the last batch over to Hartfield so that we could make them into apple butter for you… these were his favorite kind."

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mrs. Knightley, how could I thank you and Mr. Knightley for giving up all his favorite apples! You shouldn't have…" Harriet's voice was breaking and her eyes were tearing up again.

Emma was sorry that she had mentioned using up the last batch of George's apples to her now easily-stirred emotionally-laden friend. "Oh, dear Harriet… there's no need to cry over apples… you know… we get them every year… Mr. Knightley is always happy to share his apples, remember he did the same last year for Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax… his favorite strawberries will be ripening in a month, I'm sure he's not missing his apples at all!"

Wiping off her tears, Harriet's smile and blush returned. "I'm so glad Robert has been able to stay home longer in the morning… you know, his presence is another thing that I crave… other than the Hartfield apple butter."

Emma laughed, "I'm very relieved to see you're doing better, Harriet. And I'm so glad to see you and Mr. Martin being so happy, especially now that you're expecting your first child!"

Suddenly a pang crept up at Emma's heart, with the mission firmly set in her heart to achieve this morning, she decided to plunge in.

"Hmm… Harriet… there's something that I must say to you…" Emma was searching her thought wondering how to begin.

"What is it, Mrs. Knightley?" Harriet asked, bewildered by Emma's countenance.

"Remember last year, shortly after we met… Mr. Martin wrote to propose to you?"

"Oh… yes, I remember the day when I received his proposal at Mrs. Goddard's school… then I took it to Hartfield to show it to you…" Harriet was happy to recall the occasion.

"Yes… that day… I know it has been well over a year… and I'm very glad that you and Mr. Martin are so very happy now… but… I want to tell you that I am _very_, _very_ sorry for persuading you to refuse Mr. Martin's proposal that day!"

"Oh… Miss Woodhouse, no, Mrs. Knightley, oh, Miss Woodhouse… oh dear… the talk of the past is confusing me… Did you try to persuade me to refuse Robert that day?"

"Harriet… I didn't tell you out right to refuse him… I thought you were going to refuse him at first, but then when I realized that you were going to give him a favorable answer… and you seemed to be seeking my advice… anyway, Harriet, even though I did not tell you to refuse him, I _do_ know that I had influenced your answer to Mr. Martin's proposal that day." It did not matter whether Harriet remember the details of the event, Emma was determined to apologize.

Emma put her hands on Harriet's shoulders and looked intently into her eyes, "Harriet… Whether you remember what happened exactly on that day is no matter; I want you to know how much I have regretted my meddling between you and Mr. Martin, I know I should have let you make the decision on your own and I am really sorry for what I did! I feel that I owe you an apology and sincerely hope that you could find it in your heart to forgive me!"

Harriet lifted her hands to cup Emma's elbows, "Miss Woodhouse… no, Mrs. Knightley… oh, no Miss…" Harriet shook her head as she was lost in her own words.

"Call me Emma… we've been friends for so long, Harriet, I think it's time that you call me Emma!" Emma said it vehemently.

"Thank you, Miss… Mrs… no, Emma! Dear Emma, it really doesn't matter what happened that day; all I know is that Robert and I are very, very happy now. So much had happened last year and I had forgotten most of them… all it matter is that Robert and I will become parents very soon, and I have you and Mr. Knightley to thank for. Even though there is no need for any apology, if it would make you feel better, Miss… I mean Emma, your apology is accepted!" Harriet let out a half-crying, half-laughing smile.

Instantly, Emma let go of Harriet's shoulders and pulled her into her embrace. She felt that the burden caused by her own blunders, that was buried in her heart and that she had not owned up to for over a year, had finally been lifted. For the first time since she had known Harriet, she felt that their friendship was completely honest, sincere, and equal, freed from differences in ranks and situations - She knew at the core of her heart that this was the beginning, belated yet not too late, of a beautiful friendship!

* * *

Just as Emma was leaving Harriet's home at Donwell, sixteen miles away in London, George was bidding farewell to John and Isabella at Brunswick Square, before leaving for Brentwood.

Isabella took a long sigh as she and the two Knightley brothers were walking toward the front door.

"John, I wished you didn't invite George to come to Brunswick Square to meet with Mr. Edinburg yesterday!"

John was bemused at his wife's lamentation, "My love, why would you say such a thing? Don't you enjoy George's company anymore?"

Isabella sighed again, "Of course I do, it's always lovely to have George at Brunswick Square, and the children love having Uncle Knightley visiting so very much, especially now that George's visits are shorter and fewer in between, _but_ if I would have known that he was going to Brentwood before Kingston, I would rather have him staying at home with Emma for couple more days before his journey to the fairs!"

"My love, we are speaking of only _couple_ of days!"

Although John seemed to imply that her lamentation was unjust, Isabella could not help but show sympathy for her dear sister.

"Poor Emma! The last time when George went to the Loughton fair for a fortnight, she wrote to me twice and told me how miserable she felt the whole time," turning to face George, Isabella continued, "and being home for not even a week, you had to leave again… I regret that we have to take you away from her even before the fairs, George!"

George knew the kind of misery Isabella was speaking of, for he had missed Emma just as much, if not more, as she had missed him during his last journey. It pained him to think that it would be many days before he would be with her again. As much as he wanted to say something to comfort Isabella, he could not bring himself up to utter a word, all he could do was to return her sentiment with a smile.

Noticing George's depressed countenance, instead of being sympathetic to his older brother, John seized the opportunity to give him a little friendly verbal nudge, raising his eye brow, he said "Ah! You see, my love, you're making George depressed with all your sighs!"

Watching for George's reaction, John continued with his teasing remarks. "What I don't understand is that my brother used to visit us more often and enjoyed the domesticity of our family and particularly our children… but now that he's married and has a _wife_ of his own, he only comes when he has _business_ to take care of, and won't even stay longer than a _single_ night… Hum, I wonder how soon it will be before he forgets that he even has a younger brother!"

Isabella did not like the way John spoke of George and especially Emma, and was silently hoping that John would stop his remarks before wounding George's feeling.

However, George had long known and appreciated his little brother's odd sense of humor, he was glad that no matter how old they grew, their brotherly love never diminished and could withstand an occasional tease or two, even ones that were in ill taste.

Pretending to be frustrated, George sounded helpless as he spoke to John.

"My dear little brother! When will you start treating your older brother with respect? How often did mother use to scold and lecture you about showing respect to the elders?"

"Aha! Elders indeed! You finally admit your approaching senility." John had a smirk on his face.

Sounding exasperated, George said, "No! What I meant was that when I was a bachelor, you pestered me ceaselessly to get a wife and a mistress for Donwell, introducing me to all the young widows and heiresses of your acquaintances; now that I'm married, you have to find something else to harass me with…"

Showing his winning smile, John said, "Well, that's what brothers are for!"

Being an older brother, George had often intentionally let his younger brother won. "As I used to say…" John knew exactly what George was going to say and he joined in, "I wish mother had given us one more brother to share the endless harassments!" Both brothers laughed and Isabella finally realized the banters she had witnessed between the two brothers were all in good-nature.

Just as all three of them were laughing, the maid came inside the house to hand the delivered posts to John.

"Splendid! Here's the paperwork that I was waiting for from Mr. Edinburg…" John sorted through all the posts and found what he wanted.

"Any post from Hartfield?" Isabella asked.

"No, my dear. Nothing from Emma or your father." John said indifferently.

"Hum! That is strange… Emma never misses her Monday letter to me!" Isabella was disappointed for she was accustomed to getting letters from her dear sister every Tuesday. For many years Emma had been writing to her on every Monday to be delivered to Brunswick Square on the very next day.

George thought it was strange as well, as he also knew that Emma never missed her weekly letter to Isabella! What could have happened to detain her long time habit?

Isabella sighed, "Perhaps she got too busy yesterday… even though she never missed a single week before!"

George then recalled his conversation with Emma just before he got on the carriage the day before.

"Yesterday right before I took off on my journey, Emma had mentioned that your father had given her two portraits of your mother's…."

"Oh! Really! Have I seen them before?" Isabella asked.

"I don't know… well, I don't think so, because Emma said those likenesses were 'unusual' and they were 'confusing' to her." George wished he could have stayed longer with Emma to inquire about why they were unusual and confusing.

"I don't recall seeing any unusual and confusing likenesses of Mama. Did she say why?" Isabella was intrigued.

Shaking his head regretfully, George said, "I should have stayed and asked her about them! But we were afraid that I would be late for the meeting with Mr. Edinburg, so she hurried me off on my journey."

"Well, let me write to ask her about them then." Isabella said and George nodded.

It was time for Isabella to return to the children, who had already said their goodbyes to their favorite uncle, to check on their studying; she bade her brother-in-law an affectionate farewell, and begged him to be careful on his journey and be watchful of his health to not catch cold as she always did, then left the two brothers alone.

Right before John and George walked out of the front door, John put his arm around his brother's shoulder and said, "George, all teasing aside, you know that I love Emma, don't you?"

"Of course, John, that I have always known!" George smiled warmly.

"And you must know how happy I am for the two of you!" George nodded as John continued, "I do miss having your frequent visits at Brunswick Square, but seeing how _happy_ you are! I do not regret a bit that you don't visit as often as you used to be. And thank you for coming to meet with Mr. Edinburg in such short notice, I have always valued your opinion and advice, it gives me the assurance that I need to move forward."

"Well, John, the Steam Engine Planer business does sound like a promising one, after looking over Mr. Edinburg's detail plan yesterday I do feel more comfortable, but keep in mind that capital investment is a lucrative but risky business - you have Isabella and five children on your shoulders – you must be extremely watchful with your decision." This time was John's turn to nod.

After the two brothers shook hands to bid their farewell and good wishes, George was off on his journey to Brentwood. On his carriage ride for the twenty miles journey, his mind was constantly wondering why Emma missed writing to Isabella the day before – he could not think of her being too busy to write to her dear sister, in fact, writing to Isabella had been something of most endearing nature to Emma that she always set it as the foremost thing to accomplish on Monday, why would she miss it? The more he thought of it the more he worried. He scolded himself for not taking the time to ask Emma about her mother's portraits – he wished there was something he could do!


	9. A 'Gentleman' Look

**A/N:** My apology for the sporadic updates – I try to write whenever I could, sometimes I get more time than others. Here's chapter nine - a short little chapter which was originally part of chapter eight, but because the last chapter was getting too long, I decided to make it into two chapters. This also kicks off Mrs. Thompson's help on Emma's gentleman disguise.

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Nine: 'Gentleman' Look and Mother's Prayer**_

* * *

After her visit to Harriet, Emma returned to Hartfield to wait anxiously for Mrs. Thompson's arrival in the afternoon, every hour had felt like an entire day. When Mrs. Thompson arrived, Mr. Woodhouse was taking his afternoon nap by the fire; after their customary polite exchanges, Emma immediately swept her upstairs to the attic to the cedar chest.

"Mrs. Thompson… I had looked inside the chest last night and seen my mother's gentleman items. They were all very fine and impeccably preserved." Emma spoke to Mrs. Thompson as she unlocked the cedar chest.

"You are right, Mrs. Knightley. Look at these vests! They look just as fine as the day Miss Isabel wore them. They were made with the finest fabric from Italy… and her shoes… Mr. Hamley and I could not find any gentlemen shoes that would fit your mother's feet because they were way too small, we had to request the cobbler to custom made them for your mother… with a little polish, they will look like new!"

"Would you like to try them on Mrs. Knightley?" Mrs. Thompson took a glance at Emma's person, "I dare say that these will fit you perfectly - Not only you are as beautiful as your mother, you have her perfect height and figure, too."

Mrs. Thompson carried the gentleman clothes to Emma's dressing-room while Betty took the shoes to polish. With her experience of fussing over George's attire and dressing him perfectly every day, Emma managed to put on the gentleman clothes in such a short time that astonished Mrs. Thompson.

"Ah! Mrs. Knightley… your mother's clothes suit you perfectly!" Mrs. Thompson exclaimed as Emma walked from behind the China screen.

Emma looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror and marveled at how differently she looked in gentleman clothes. Even though the clothes were not in the latest fashion, the material was extremely fine and the tailoring was superb. She twirled around in front of the mirror, wondering how gentlemanly she would look with the wig on… and thinking to herself that perhaps disguising as a gentleman might not be such a _ridiculous_ idea after all.

Betty brought in the polished shoes and Emma tried them on with ease, they fit perfectly. It was like everything was meant to be for her mother - as well as for her!

Mrs. Thompson was very pleased to see Emma's half-gentleman look already working well. "Ah… Mrs. Knightley, your hair… to complete your gentleman look, you must put on the wig as well. Before putting on the wig, all your hair will need to be pinned up. The pinning work must be done meticulously to keep any strand of hair from falling… otherwise your disguise will be exposed."

But the time had come that Mrs. Thompson must go home. She promised Emma that she would return the following day to help her with the gentleman walk and voice. According to Mrs. Thompson, Emma's mother had spent much effort observing how a gentleman walked and what his voice was like; Emma was hoping that Mrs. Thompson could shed lights on these particular matters.

* * *

When the evening came, Emma still could not take her mind off of the image of herself in the gentleman clothing. She was glad that there were no guests invited to dine at Hartfield this evening, for she would not be a very good hostess with only half a mind!

With only Mr. Woodhouse and Emma supper was simple and quiet. They played a game of backgammon after their tea until it was time for Mr. Woodhouse' nightly gruel. Once Mr. Woodhouse had finished his gruel, Emma escorted him to his chamber, and settled him in bed. Then she immediately retired to her chamber to ready herself for bed - she could not wait to go back to reading her mother's letters.

Sitting in bed, once again bidding her beloved George goodnight from afar, the thought of him had brought a sweet smile on her face. Then she turned to the letters on the small table next to her bed, picked up the one on top of the bundle, gently unfolding it and started reading…

* * *

_April 10th, 1798_

_Hartfield_

_My dearest Emma,_

_What a wonderful day we had, my little angel! _**(It always brought a smile on Emma's face as she read her mother calling her 'little angel'!) **_Mr. Knightley came for a surprise visit! No one was expecting him during this time of the year, but Mrs. Knightley said that he had to take a leave from Oxford for a few days to attend to some family matters, so here he was! You're always a lively child, but nothing compares to your reaction when you see your favorite friend - even now the squeal that you screamed when you saw him still rings in my ears. And of course Papa was excited, too - he misses his friend as much as you miss yours. So it was a nice surprise for the whole Woodhouse family! _

_It still amazes me that a young gentleman of twenty and a little girl of four could be such good friends… but I suppose Mr. Knightley has always have a soft spot for my little goosey, very much like Mrs. Knightley, who adores you even now, and the late Mr. Knightley, who used to love to hold you and bounce you up and down on his lap when you were a little toddler. _

_Did you know that you gave Mrs. Knightley and Mama a fright when Mr. Knightley ran into the house carrying you in his arms with his waist coat wrapped around your whole person__? _**(Emma laughed quietly for she remembered what happened that day.) **_Mama can't take you __outside anymore __and Papa is not fond of__ outdoor activities, Mr. Knightley knows how much you love running around outside, so he took you out to the garden for a little while… Mr. Knightley said that you were bored after about ten minutes of hide and seek (because you usually lose, my dear, it's too easy for him to spot your bouncing curls and hear your giggles!), and he said that you tricked him into thinking you were heading to the lily pond to see the ducks. Knowing that you have a history of falling into the pond trying to catch the ducks, he ran after you to the pond, but then you took a swift turn for the beehive in the flower bushes instead. He said that you had dashed too quickly and when he finally reached your side, you already had your little fingers poking the hive, and the bees started coming at you! _

_Thanks to Mr. Knightley's nimble mind, he took off his waistcoat immediately to cover your person, then carried you and ran toward the house as fast as he could, for the bees were chasing fiercely after both of you. __Thank heavens that neither of you were stung by the bees! Fortunately, Papa was taking his afternoon nap in his chamber when you and Mr. Knightley made it back to the house__, _**(Emma agreed that it was fortunate her father was unaware of what happened, otherwise he would have had the flower bushes and the lily pond fenced off the next day, as he almost fenced off the lily pond after she fell into it the summer before if not because of her mother's desperate plead!) **_Isabella and Mr. John were still in the adjacent parlor playing tea-party, your fiasco did not disturb any of them; but you sure gave Mrs. Knightley and Mama a fright! No one could ever be angry at you though, my little sweet pea… Mr. Knightley was amazed that not only you weren't frightened by the bees chasing at you, he said you laughed through the whole way from the garden to the house, and even when he un-wrapped you from his waistcoat, you were still giggling – and of course you managed to get all of us giggling with you!_

_How could one not love such a precious child as you, my little Emma! Your liveliness and cleverness already have everyone adoring you and getting wrapped around your little fingers. My biggest worry is that when I'm no longer here with you, there will be no one to guide and check you, my dear child! Mama knows your temperament, your likes and dislikes, I know what mischief you could get into and I know what could stop you… Papa is a wonderful father, he loves you and Isabella more than anything, but he dotes on and never finds any fault in you, Emma… I could only hope and pray to God that He would send someone to guide and steer you to the right path!_

_With mother's endless love and countless worries,_

_Mama_

_

* * *

_

As Emma pondered upon her mother's worries, she knew her mother was right - about how everyone adored her for her liveliness and cleverness, how very often she used to use these qualities to her advantage on her father and Miss Taylor to get her way (or as her mother put it, wrapped them around her fingers), and as a result, how often she thought too highly of herself and caused her to lose her senses, which led to many a blunder!

Nonetheless, she knew her mother's prayer was answered – although nothing could have replaced the love and teaching of her mother's, she counted her blessings of having the most benevolent father, from whom she had learnt the importance of a kind and charitable heart; the most excellent governess, Miss Taylor, who had tirelessly instilled many virtues and principles in her for sixteen years; and the most sensible man, Mr. Knightley, who had often reminded her of her being a spoilt child, and taken upon himself to be her steadfast counselor with the sole purpose to guide and improve her, even when at times it was more unwelcomed than otherwise. In spite of the inflated ego and distorted senses as the results of her liveliness and cleverness, through the love and guidance of these three paragons, little Emma had grown up to be a lovely young woman, and through divine intervention had never caused any lasting injuries even with all her blunders.

Emma whispered to thank her mother for making that prayer from years past; and she silently promised her mother that rather than relying on other's kindness to overlook her faults, she would do her due diligence to be her own guide and check her own doing going forward.

It was getting very late and her eyes were droopy. After rubbing her eyes, gently laying the letter on the table next to her bed and putting out the last burning candle, she lifted up her arms to stretch lazily, and then with a yawn she slipped under the bedcovers and fell into a deep slumber.


	10. More than a 'Gentleman' Look

**A/N:** Just want to do what I should have done some time ago... Thank you _ChocolateIsMyDrug__,_ for your faithful reviews in every chapter, I want you to know that your reviews have been a great source of encouragement to me! :-)

Thank you _wokanshutaiduo, _for pointing out my over-usage of the exclamation mark, I'm watching it for everyone now, not just Mr. Knightley, although I still use them a lot! ;-)

Thank you _batzmaru347__,_ for pointing out my typo in chapter nine, I have edited it since then.

And thank you to all those who reviewed in the past, and those who have been reading the story in silence - I would love to hear from you!

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Ten: More than a 'Gentleman' Look **_

* * *

It had been five years since George came to the Brentwood fair - the last time he was here he came with Robert Martin. For at least three generations, Abbey-Mill-Farm had been the unofficial model farm of Donwell, and the Martin family had not only produced many exceptional crops and produces, but many a fine farmer during these generations. Farmer Martin had always the highest hope for his son, Robert, to carry on the legacy of Abbey-Mill, but unfortunately he passed away when Robert was only seventeen, leaving him as his premature protégé. In the hopes of fulfilling the good farmer's wish and helping the family, George commissioned himself to see to young Robert Martin's success at the farm. One of the many things he did for the Martins was accompanying Robert to the annual Brentwood fair - a long time favorite of the family to acquire all that the farm needed, from farm wares and equipment, to fattened cows and farm-oxen, etc. For the first three years after Farmer Martin's passing, he came to Brentwood to guide Robert to make the best choices for Abbey-Mill-Farm.

Within an hour of his arrival at the fair on Wednesday morning, the Master of Donwell Abbey was recognized and greeted by many farmers and landowners from nearby towns and counties – as Mr. Knightley of Donwell Abbey had the reputation of being the kindest and most tenant-minded landowner and agricultural improver of the region, over the years he had made many friends with farmers and landowners alike, one of them was Mr. Dickenson, an older gentleman landowner from Rochester, also a well respected agricultural improver. George had known Mr. Dickenson since he was a young boy when his father used to take him to agricultural events. Mr. Dickenson and the late Mr. Knightley met in one of the agricultural fairs when they were young, and became good friends because of their passion for agricultural improvements. George had been meeting him during most of the agricultural fairs and events over the years and continued to value his friendship and respect his opinion in all matters farming and improvements even after his father passed away.

"Mr. George Knightley! Is that you or am I mistaken?" Mr. Dickenson said it aloud from behind George.

George recognized the voice even before he turned around to see the face.

"Mr. Dickenson! How are you?" George turned around and shook his old friend's hands warmly, for he knew Mr. Dickenson, a gentleman with certain peculiar preferences only known to his close friends, preferred the shaking of hands over bowing when greeting those whom he was very fond of.

"I'm well, thank you, Mr. Knightley. And how are you? I never thought that I would see you at Brentwood!"

"I'm doing very well, thank you, Mr. Dickenson. I think I'm as surprised to find you here as you are me. What brought you to Brentwood?"

"Oh! It's a long story – early last month we had a rain storm, the wind torn down a portion of our home farm fences, and the rain flooded some of the fields; my youngest daughter married a month ago which prevented me to go to the Chatham fair; then I caught a bad case of cold two weeks ago which prevented me to go to the Loughton fair; and my bailiff has been ill for weeks, but we urgently need the material to replace the fence and some new equipment for the home farm – so here I'm." Mr. Dickenson shook his head as he recounted all that had happened within a few short weeks.

"Congratulations on your daughter's marriage, and I'm very sorry to hear about the damage of your home farm from the rain storm. Donwell was more fortunate, we survived the wind without much damage, and the rain had eased when the storm reached our parish."

"Yes, you were indeed fortunate… And this old man here would rather not talk about the storm anymore, for it had given me enough trouble already. So, what brought you here, Mr. Knightley? I thought I would see you at the Kingston fair instead of here."

"Yes, I'm going to the Kingston fair next week. I'm only here for Mr. Robert Martin – he and his wife are expecting their first child in three months. As Mrs. Martin requires more care from Mr. Martin, I promised him that I would take his place to come to Brentwood for Abbey-Mill-Farm."

"Ah! You are always such a faithful friend and a kind-hearted landlord - even some of my tenants wish to move to Donwell just so that you could be their landlord. Your father would have been proud of you, George!" Mr. Dickenson had known George long before he became the Master of Donwell. He used to call him by his Christian name when he was a young boy; since George had become the master himself, Mr. Dickenson had been paying him the due respect by addressing him formally.

George smiled warmly to thank Mr. Dickenson's kind words.

Mr. Dickenson continued, "And I believe congratulations are in order for you, Mr. Knightley - I heard that you finally gave up your bachelorhood and married!" Apparently, George's reputation of being a confirmed bachelor was as well known as being a kind-hearted landlord.

"Thank you, Mr. Dickenson. Yes, I have been married since last October." George could not keep his grin from his face.

"And I believe the bride was the lovely Miss Woodhouse, wasn't it?"

"Yes, indeed, Mr. Dickenson… I know news could travel far, but never expected it to be accurate." George was amused by this intelligence, as he never thought that his matrimony would be of anyone's interest outside of Highbury.

"Oh, no! The news of your marriage did spread far, but I did not hear the name of the bride from the news."

"Then how did you know that it was Miss Woodhouse?" George was intrigued.

"Aha, Mr. Knightley – mind you that I have known you since you were a young lad, you have been one of the most pleasant-tempered gentleman I have ever met – except for last year!"

"Last year?"

"Yes, last year, at the Kingston fair – I had never seen you look graver in my life, and I could tell that it was _not _because of Donwell or any of your farmer tenants."

George was listening with keen interest.

"You were _not _yourself, Mr. Knightley – you looked so grave during the entire fair and spoke very little of anything, not even the subject of land improvement could interest you, which was extremely unusual for you. I remember during our supper on the last day of the fair, you finally mentioned something about there was going to be a Ball at Highbury, organized by some young man, and your long time family friend Miss Woodhouse was looking forward to it exceedingly, but you were not."

"I remember our conversation - you asked me why, and I told you that I did not enjoy dancing and was not good at it… how could you gather so much from such a short conversation, Mr. Dickenson?" George was exceedingly curious.

Mr. Dickenson sighed. "Mr. Knightley, I have lived many years, been in-love more than once myself, and seen all my sons and daughters in-love and married… from the look on your face I could tell that you did not enjoy dancing was _not_ because you were not good at it, it _was_ because of the young lady, Miss Woodhouse, that you were speaking of…"

George's face colored, and Mr. Dickenson laughed heartily. "But there is nothing to be embarrassed about, Mr. Knightley, one cannot help it when one is in-love… by the look of your face today, I could tell that all the melancholy from last year was gone, and you and your bride must be as happy as any married couple can be!"

For a few seconds, George was speechless - he took off his hat, looked down at his shoes and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. As he quickly gathered his composure, he looked up and spoke.

"As my father had told me many times - you _are_ indeed a keen observer, nothing escapes your eyes, Mr. Dickenson. You were right in all of the above – and indeed, I have everything to be thankful for and nothing to be melancholy about."

"I'm very happy for you, George! You deserve to have the best woman as your wife – and I know that any lady who could win the love of yours must be the luckiest woman in the world."

"Thank you, Mr. Dickenson… and let me tell you that _I am_ the luckiest man in the world to have Miss Woodhouse be my wife." The approval of his marriage from his late father's long time friend meant very much to George, other than Mr. Woodhouse, Mr. Dickenson was the only surviving gentleman friend of his father's and he valued his opinion as much as Mr. Woodhouse'.

"So, is Mr. Martin looking for fattened cows for Abbey-Mill-Farm? I know exactly where they are, come with me, Mr. Knightley, I was just there… and tell me more about your lovely wife… I've heard that she's actually the sister of your sister-in-law, what a rare chance for two brothers to marry to two sisters…"

George was happy to answer all the questions from Mr. Dickenson regarding his Emma, as he followed the lead of Mr. Dickenson to find the best fattened cows for Abbey-Mill-Farm.

* * *

Just as the day before, Mrs. Thompson arrived at Hartfield at exactly half past three this afternoon, the same time when Mr. Woodhouse was taking his nap by the fire in the drawing-room. After they exchanged their customary politeness, Emma invited Mrs. Thompson to follow her to her dressing-room, where her mother's gentleman clothing had been removed to.

Once Emma, Mrs. Thompson, and Betty were all in Emma's dressing-room, Mrs. Thompson reached into the pocket of one of Emma's mother's waistcoats and said, "Ah! Mrs. Knightley, look what I have here for you…" She handed a small strip of hairy object to Emma.

"_Oh_! What is it, Mrs. Thompson?" Before Mrs. Thompson had time to reply, Emma already had the answer to her own question, "It's a mustache! Yes… Mama had a mustache in her gentleman portrait, I recognize it…"

"That's right, Mrs. Knightley! I had completely forgotten about the mustache yesterday. Your face is too beautiful and delicate, even with gentleman clothing your face will give your identity away in a second. The mustache will cover your delicate mouth and work as a distraction from other features on your face… that was what Miss Isabel said… I'm so glad it was still in the waistcoat pocket!"

"But… but… what was it made of? If it's human hair… whose hair was it? It … feels… so real…" Feeling a bit disgusted, Emma's brows furrowed as she thought of putting someone's hair on her face.

"Oh! No! This is not human hair, Mrs. Knightley, have no fear… this is made of horse hair… we purchased it form a groom-shop and it had been washed and cleaned before I put it in the pocket after Miss Isabel last wore it. See, the texture of horse hair is very close to the human mustache - it is not too soft, not too stiff, it will hold its shape very well."

"I suppose Mama was right… it will help distract the attention… but… I think I'll try it on later… Mrs. Thompson… I thought we were going to work on the gentleman walk today, weren't we?" Emma asked eagerly, putting the mustache away in the waistcoat pocket.

"Yes, yes, indeed we were… let me think…what did Miss Isabel say about the gentleman walk…" Mrs. Thompson murmured to herself.

"I must be getting too old… I can't remember what she said about how gentlemen walked! But I do remember that she used to observe how Mr. Hamley walked, and used his walk as a guide."

"Well… then I suppose I could use Papa's walk as my guide… let me think how Papa walks…"

With Mr. Woodhouse' image in her mind, Emma started walking from one end of the dressing-room to the other in front of Mrs. Thompson and Betty. As she turned around to walk back, Betty burst into laughter. It must be contagious, for Mrs. Thompson and Emma herself also joined in the laughter simultaneously.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Knightley!" Betty trying hard to suppress her laughers, "it's just that… you look exactly like Mr. Woodhouse… you have his slouch back, slightly tilted head, and you walk just as slow as Mr. Woodhouse does!"

Wiping the tears of laughter off her eyes, Emma said mischievously "Isabella and I used to imitate Papa's walk when we were little children… well… actually I was the only one who did it, Isabella just gave me signal as soon as she saw Papa or Miss Taylor coming… I suppose I haven't lost my 'acting' ability after all these years!" Emma was excited to recall one of her favorite pastimes with Isabella when they were children.

Suddenly Mrs. Thompson spoke out loud, "Oh! I remember what Miss Isabel said about the gentleman walk… she said 'ladies glide, but gentlemen stride'… I'm sure that's what she said!" Mrs. Thompson was relieved that she finally remembered.

"Umph… 'Ladies glide but gentlemen stride'… whose gentleman stride could I imitate…" Emma thought intensely.

'YES! I know!" Emma exclaimed, and her eyes brightened.

Emma thought that the most perfect, elegant, graceful gentleman that she ever knew her entire life must be no one other than her George! She closed her eyes as she pictured the night at the Crown Inn Ball exactly twelve months ago… She was more disturbed by Mr. Knightley's not dancing, than by anything else. There he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing, -not classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players, who were pretending to feel and interest in the dance till their rubbers were made up, -so young as he looked! He moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace; he must have danced… Emma smiled as she remembered that before the end of that night, she and George had danced their very first dance together!

She admired the tall, firm, and upright figure that George had, and the natural grace and gentlemanlike manner that he possessed; she thought his walk would be the perfect gentleman walk for her to imitate. So she straightened her back, stood up tall, squared her shoulders, lifted up her chin very slightly, kept her eyes looking forward, and started striding with air and grace from one end to the other and back again in the dressing-room.

"Mrs. Knightley! That was perfect! I dare say that you did even better than Miss Isabel!" Both Mrs. Thompson and Betty were applauding Emma.

"Thank you Mrs. Thompson and thank you Betty!" Secretly basking in their praises, Emma could not be more proud of the gracefulness of her George. "It's only because I have the best gentleman walk to follow!"

"I'm so glad things are going so well, Mrs. Knightley… now I think the last thing you need to work on is the voice… what did Miss Isabel say about the voice…" Mrs. Thompson began to search her memory.

"Isn't a gentleman's voice harsher than a lady's?" All these time Betty had been enjoying watching all that Emma and her mother were doing, she could not help herself to chime in.

"I think you're right, Betty, lady's voice is much more pleasant than man's I think - ladies' voices are soft and high pitch, while men's are coarse and low." Emma welcomed Betty's opinion very much for she had always thought that Betty was the most timid and gentle girl she knew, she would love to hear her speak more often.

"Mrs. Knightley, did you say 'pitch'?" Mrs. Thompson's eyes were bright and hopeful, "I remember now! Miss Isabel used to take voice lessons… Mr. Hamley used to love listening to her sing. He thought that Miss Isabel had the sweetest voice he had ever heard. Her teacher told Miss Isabel that men's voices were generally about an octave lower than women's… oh, I'm so glad I finally remember!"

Emma lowered her voice in an effort to speak like a man, "Hum… I suppose that is right… men's voices are generally an octave lower than women's… "

"Mrs. Knightley… you sounded like 'Ursula', our dairy cow at the farm!" Betty was laughing.

Trying to catch her breath, Emma said, "I don't think I could speak like this for more than a sentence, I'll be running out of breath very soon." She started to laugh as well.

For years Miss Taylor had given singing lessons to Isabella and Emma. Isabella was focus and diligent in her practices and could carry a tune beautifully, but clever Emma was the one with the sweeter voice, and always quick to grasp the essence of the lessons. However, just like many things which natural talents she had, but industry and patience she had not – Emma never spent half the time as Isabella did in practicing, even though many praised her for her lovely voice and performances whenever she entertained guests on occasions, she knew her technique was not nearly polished to the level it could have reached.

Fortunately she remembered what Miss Taylor said about breathing into the chest and lower-body to yield low pitches and open sounds. Emma steadied herself, and started taking slow deep breathes (to breathing into her lower-body) and then walked up to Betty in her gentleman strides. She took a bow in front of her and spoke in a charming gentlemanly voice, "Good afternoon, Miss Betty! What a pleasure to have you in my dressing-room this afternoon."

As soon as Emma finished, Betty burst into violence giggles, and very soon she was laughing so hard that she bent forward to hold her abdomen with both hands! Mrs. Thompson also joined in, and then a second later Emma could not contain herself anymore and laughed herself silly.

Finally after their laughter had subsided, Mrs. Thompson spoke with delight, "Oh! Mrs. Knightley, I think you have the nicest gentleman voice I have ever heard; and if today, you decided to put on your mother's gentleman clothes, walk as you did and speak in the gentleman voice that you just had… oh! and don't forget the mustache and the wig… then no one will be able to tell that there is a beautiful lady underneath all that!" Mrs. Thompson was proud to have fulfilled Mr. Woodhouse' request in his note to assist his daughter in her gentleman disguise, and was very satisfied that her work was complete.

It was finally time for Mrs. Thompson to take leave. Emma thanked her wholeheartedly for telling her her mother's story, and for helping her with her gentleman disguise. She walked Mrs. Thompson to the front gate and bade her goodbye and thanked her again. As Mrs. Thompson took her leave, and Betty went inside the house, Emma decided to take a walk in the garden alone.

Emma was amazed at how much had happened in the last few days, seeing her mother's portraits, finding out her scheme, sending George off on his journey, hearing her mother's story from Mrs. Thompson, discovering her mother's letters, and working on her own gentleman disguise. To think that all these were instigated by her desire to accompany George on his journey amused her! Now that her gentleman disguise had turned out so well she was left with one important question to herself – what would she do with it?

She decided that she would not make a hasty decision and was happy to leave it be for now.


	11. Sorrows and Insights

**A/N:** It has been obvious, I hope, that this story is more about the the impact on Emma from her discovery of her mother's letters, which was instigated by her desire to accompany Mr. Knightley to the fairs, than the gentleman disguise itself. I will be wrapping up the discovery portion of the story in the next couple chapters and the story focus will turn. Thank you to those who have been sticking to the story and waiting for Emma to go to the fair in disguise. While I don't want to reveal how it will happen, I do want to let you know that we are not too far away from the event, lest you're wondering if we'll ever get there! :)

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Eleven: Sorrows and Insights **_

* * *

That night, after supper, Emma picked up her needles and continued kitting the sock for her namesake, little Emma, for about half an hour. Then as she and Mr. Woodhouse sat by the fire in the drawing-room to take their tea, she took the opportunity to speak to her father about Mrs. Thompson.

"Papa, I had spoken with Mrs. Thompson the last few days and she had come to Hartfield yesterday and this afternoon while you were taking your nap."

"Ah! I have not spoken to Margaret for a long time! Is she well?"

"Yes, Papa, she and her family are doing very well! They are excited about the crop rotation plan that Mr. Knightley showed them - they think their harvest will be much better this year."

"That is very good news, Emma my dear! Did you tell her that I am very happy with Betty? She should know that Betty has been an excellent maid at Hartfield, no one could fluff my pillow like her; that is except for you, Emma my dear."

"Yes, Papa, I told her how happy you were with Betty and she was very pleased by it."

There was a short pause while Mr. Woodhouse was searching his thoughts. "I suppose you have spoken to Margaret about your mother, my dear Emma…"

Emma was relieved that her father did not look depressed; he was calm and interested in what she had to say next.

"Yes, Papa! Mrs. Thompson was very helpful, she told me many things about Mama and grandfather, what Mama was like when she was a child and how she helped grandfather when he had fallen ill."

"Your mother was a fanciful child, you know, she always had a wonderful sense of humor, and probably a little mischievous I must say." Mr. Woodhouse' gaze was distance and his tone was warm, "And she indeed loved your grandfather very, very much - they were the world to each other!"

"That was the exact words Mrs. Thompson used, now I understand why Mama dared to commit her scheme - she did it all for the love of grandfather!"

"Emma, my dear, your mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but her true beauty was inside her - She had the purest of hearts one could ever have, and would sacrifice her own comfort for the ones she loved without any hesitation… I was the most fortunate fellow to have her love and be my wife."

As Emma saw that Mr. Woodhouse face was full of affection, she thought to continue the subject.

Cautiously watching for her father's reaction, she said, "Mrs. Thompson, Betty and I went to the attic and looked at Mama's gentleman items in the large cedar chest…"

"Umph… how did you find your mother's clothing? Are they still in good condition?" Mr. Woodhouse was curious.

"Yes, they were all perfectly preserved in the cedar chest… and…" Emma muttered, "I even tried them on… and they suit me perfectly."

Mr. Woodhouse looked at Emma for a moment and then his face broke into a warm smile. "Emma, my dear, haven't I always told you that you are so much like your mother? I'm not surprised that her clothes suit you perfectly."

Changing from a warm smile to a serious expression, Mr. Woodhouse continued, "Are you still thinking of following your mother's footsteps to go the fairs with Mr. Knightley, Emma my dear?"

"… Well, Papa… I am still thinking about it and have not decided yet… but if Mama could do such a courageous act for Grandfather and you… I suppose it may not be too ridiculous of an idea for me to follow Mama's example, is it?"

"Emma, my dear, your mother was never ridiculous, she was always right! If you're following her example… then, without a doubt, it wouldn't be ridiculous at all."

Mr. Woodhouse was thoughtful before he spoke again.

"Since Mr. Knightley has already gone ahead, you must not be alone when you go, you must take Betty with you. You know, my dear - Papa will be worrying about you, I have always worried about you…but if this will make you happy and not fallen ill, it will give me comfort that at least Betty is with you."

"Thank you Papa, if I decided to go, I will be sure to take Betty with me." Emma was surprised that her father had not changed his mind on letting her go to the fair.

For some moments, Mr. Woodhouse was silent and deep in thoughts. Then hesitantly he asked, "Emma, my dear… Did you notice a small package wrapped in a blue silk scarf inside the cedar chest where your mother's gentleman items were kept?"

"Yes, Papa… I opened the package… and it was letters from Mama to Isabella and me." Emma had been reluctant to disclose her discovery to her father in the fear of depressing him. Nonetheless she felt that she must be honest with him, and hope that by doing so might be able to find out the reason why the letters were hidden from her and Isabella all these years.

"I'm glad you finally found the letters. Your mother had spent many months writing those letters to you and Isabella…"

Sorrow had finally come onto Mr. Woodhouse! Helplessly Emma watched her father pulled every bit of strength within him to say what was on his mind.

"Emma, my dear… When your mother died, Papa was so heart-broken that I almost could not bear to live - I did not understand why an invalid like me was allowed to live, but your mother was not! There were times when I thought that my grief would overcome me… but you and Isabella were so young, you needed me as a father… and I loved both of you too much to send you away or leave you behind…"

Mr. Woodhouse voice was beginning to choke and he paused for a moment to collect his composure, "I am sorry that Papa never gave you and Isabella the letters, it was because I could not bear the pain - I was afraid that if I gave them to you, you would have many questions to ask about your mother and I would not be able to bear it. As the mere sight of the letters brought me too much sorrow, I wrapped the two bundles of letters in your mother's favorite scarf and put it in the cedar chest along with her gentleman items to keep them away from me as far as possible."

Mr. Woodhouse took a long sigh, "But I think time has its way to heal one's broken-heart. After some years had passed, I regretted that I never gave you and Isabella the letters - as much as I could not bear to see them, they were written with your mother's heart and soul! But even with all my regrets, I still could not bear to bring up the subject matter until the opportunity had presented itself – when I gave you your mother's portraits, I was not certain if they would lead you to the letters, but I had hoped that they would. I am relieved that your mother's letters have finally found their way to your hands, and I know that you will take care of Isabella's until they reach hers."

Wiping away the tears that had been welling up in her eyes, Emma went to kneel by her father's side, putting her hands on his arm, squeezing it gently and looking intently into his eyes, she spoke tenderly to him, "Papa… I am truly grateful that I have Mama's letters now, and I do not regret that they were kept away from us for many years! Please be assured that I will take great care of Mama's letters to Isabella."

Emma continued as she put on a bright smile for her father, "Isabella, John and the children will be visiting us again in the summer, only two months away! Mama's letters will be safe with me until she comes, Papa!"

Mr. Woodhouse covered Emma's hands with his affectionately, and then took a deep breath and slowly he said, "Very well… now I think I could finally let go of the burden hidden in my heart all these years!" As he finished, he closed his eyes and leaned back against his arm-chair.

Right at that moment, the clock on the wall struck quarter past eight; Emma silently breathed a sigh of relief and rang the bell to call for her father's nightly gruel.

* * *

It had been an eventful day for Emma, her mind was full of the day's happenings and she could not be more relieved that the day was approaching its end. Nonetheless, she was missing George even more tonight! Watching her father confessed the sorrow he felt when her mother died had pained her immensely - she wished George was home to share her feelings. She missed their nightly chat by the fire, his soothing voice whenever her heart was troubled, his gentle touch when he stroke her hair or rubbed her shoulders, his comfort assurance that things would be all right when she felt burdened, and there was so much she wanted to tell him about her mother - but instead she was all alone sitting on her side of the bed.

Nevertheless, Emma did not feel despaired! She was grateful for her mother's letters – not just because they had kept her company for the last few nights, but for the love and warmth, and the teaching and guidance from her mother that they had brought her. She was even more grateful for her father's love for her and Isabella - It was true that she had wished many a time that she had these letters when she was much younger, but she would never blame her father for keeping them away for all these years. She understood the pain he felt and was truly thankful that her father willed himself to live so that Isabella and she would not become orphans. She knew that her mother would have understood her father's heart just like she did.

The warmth of her parents' love for her and Isabella rushed into Emma's heart and planted a smile on her face. She was excited to reach for another letter from the bundle, gently unfolding it and expectantly she read on…

* * *

_April 26__th__, 1798_

_Hartfield_

_My dearest Emma,_

_My dearest little angel, another day had passed by, but a day with you, Isabella and Papa is always a wonderful day!_

_Today was not just another day though, we had visitors – Miss Bates and little Jane called today. It is always a delight to have dear Miss Bates over, and Mama has always adored little Jane, what a sweet little girl! Highbury is such a lovely country town, I have loved it ever since I removed here from London; but my only regret is that there are not many children at your age and Isabella's to be your friends. I know how much you adored Mr. Knightley, but he is much older than you, it would be nice to have a friend of your own age to play and grow up with, don't you think my little pumpkin?_

_Mrs. Fairfax and I became very good friends during the time when we were expecting Jane and you. She was about five months along when I was only two. As I was the one already had a child, she looked up to me to give her advices. I used to visit her regularly, first because Mr. Fairfax was in the infantry so much that she was along too often, and especially as she was bed-ridden for almost three months before Jane was born. The year when the two of you took your turn to debut to this world, Highbury was filled with happiness and congratulations, everyone sent their best wishes for the Fairfaxes, the Bates and the Woodhouses! What a joyous time!_

_Who would have thought that three years later tragedy would strike the Fairfax family! Mama's heart ached for little Jane – she first lost her father in action abroad, and then her mother sank under the consumption of grief soon afterwards! Fortunately she has her Grandmother, Mrs. Bates, and Aunt, Miss Bates to become her charge. _

_Little Jane was the only child of your age around here, I had often thought that you and Jane would be perfect friends for each other, just like Mama and Mrs. Fairfax. That used to be my thought anyway… now that seeing the way you and Jane not getting on, I think I was wrong. You and Jane are at the same age, but yet so very different – she is quiet and reserved like her mother, and you are open and lively like me. While the differences between Mama and Mrs. Fairfax really complimented our friendship, no matter how often you and Jane are being put together in a room and encouraged to play together, you don't seem to be very fond of each other! But what can a Mama do? I have to respect your differences and hope that other little friends would come along for you one day._

_On the brighter side, Mama always loves to visit with our dear friend, Miss Bates! I will be very honest with you, my little Emma, I was not always so fond of Miss Bates, but I'm very happy to tell you that I have come to respect and value her tremendously over the last twelve years. When I first came to know her, all I knew was that she was a woman with endless chatters - I was amazed at how many words she could say within a sentence and all in a single breath! At times, it was almost tiresome for me to hear her spoke; and I was very surprised at how fondly your Papa was of her. You know, my sweet pea, your Papa may have a nervous disposition, but he always has a way to look into people's hearts – and that caused me to start looking deeper into this good woman's heart! _

_With all her situations, she is not one to boast her beauty, cleverness or fortune; her youth has passed her, and to have an aging mother and a little orphan niece to take care of, others might say that Miss Bates has all the disadvantages of the world on her side - but I have never met a happier woman, with more simplicity and cheerful nature and contented and grateful spirit! She loves everybody, is interested in everybody's happiness, quick sighted to everybody's merits; and thought herself a most fortunate creature, and surrounded with blessings in such an excellent mother and so many good neighbors and friends, and a home that wants for nothing. How can I not respect and value such a gentlewoman! My only regret is that I did not see her admirable qualities when I first came to Highbury!_

_Emma, my dear! When I think of Miss Bates, it just reinforces so much of what I have always believed in – outward appearances and situations should never become the paramount of how we judge others. Remember to always look beyond one's appearance and understand what is underneath; and more importantly, always examine your own heart and be certain that your heart is in the right place, then listen to it and let it be the guide of your action and words!_

_With all my hearts and all my love,_

_Mama_

_

* * *

_

Emma was struck by how her mother was always right - First it was her counsel on friendship, then her worries of her being a spoilt child, and now it's Miss Bates! She felt incredibly ashamed of herself – of how most her life she had very little respect for the very woman that her mother was speaking of in the letter, and had respected and valued so much when she was alive. Like her mother, her impression of Miss Bates was one with endless and tiresome chatters, but unlike her mother who had seek out Miss Bates' good heart and come to admire her sense and simplicity, Emma had seldom come to value the goodness in this longtime friend.

Emma found it ironic that everyone praised her for her cleverness, but she was too foolish to see what had been plainly written over Miss Bates all these years. She could never forget her slighting Miss Bates at the Box Hill picnic – Mr. Knightley had rightfully scolded her for her unfeeling to Miss Bates, which caused her thoroughly ashamed of herself and desperately tried to make amend the day after. Since then she had been much more watchful of her words and trying to show as much kindness as possible toward Miss Bates, but Emma knew that she still had not given the respect that was long overdue to the very kind gentlewoman.

The remorse that Emma felt on Box Hill after Mr. Knightley's scolding came into her heart once again. Tears started trickling from her eyes onto her nightgown - How she wished her mother was alive when she was young to guide her and stop her mistakes, how she wished the Box Hill incident never happened! She knew Mr. Knightley had forgiven her for her misguided behavior, and now she silently begged her mother to forgive her for the same wrong doing.

Her tears had finally stopped and her heart calmed. She knew that her mother would have forgiven her, and she also knew that she would have advised her to start afresh and be genuine toward the very good-hearted Miss Bates, for who she was and what she had to endure.

With new hope in her heart, she gently folded and put the letter away, then put out the last burning candle to take her rest for the night.


	12. A Letter from Brentwood

"…_In her mother she lost the only person able to cope with her. She inherits her mother's talents, and must have been under subjection to her."_

_Mr. Knightley_

'_Emma', Chapter 5_

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twelve: A Different Kind of Letter **_

* * *

It was a beautiful spring morning in Highbury - the sun was warm and inviting, the birds humming on the trees under the clear blue sky, and the butterflies fluttering amongst the brilliantly colored flower bushes in the Hartfield garden. Mr. Woodhouse was feeling particularly fine after an extremely restful evening. As usual, he took his morning exercise walking around the garden after breakfast; but to Emma's surprise, he told her that he would take four rounds instead of his usual three around the garden, for he had an unusual desire to enjoy the warm sun and fresh air this morning!

After the sorrow Emma had witnessed from her father the night before, she was tremendously thankful to see her father's jovial spirit. Rather than the extremely restful evening, she silently attributed her father's unusual liveliness to the lifting of the burden of her mother's letters hidden in his heart for eighteen years.

As Mr. Woodhouse was walking in the garden, the footman came inside the drawing-room, where Emma was arranging the fresh flowers that she had cut from the garden, to announce that Mr. Perry was calling – It was Mr. Perry's weekly morning call to Mr. Woodhouse, to see if the old gentleman needed attention of any sort; more often than not, nothing other than the mere presence of the apothecary was all that Mr. Woodhouse needed to calm his nerves and sooth his spirit. However, as Emma looked at her watch, she thought that Mr. Perry was unusually early.

"Good morning, Mr. Perry! How are you this morning?" Emma said warmly and invited Mr. Perry to sit on the sofa in the drawing-room.

"Thank you Mrs. Knightley, I am very well this morning and how are you?" Mr. Perry took a bow before he sat down on the sofa; and Emma asked the servant to bring in tea for the guest before she sat down across from him.

"I'm very well, thank you Mr. Perry! It's such a beautiful morning, especially out in the garden, father had a very restful sleep last night and he felt so well this morning that he decided to take four rounds in the garden instead of three! I apologize for you might need to wait a little while before he comes back inside the house."

"Mrs. Knightley, there is no need for an apology. In fact, I must be the one to apologize for calling earlier than usual this morning – I was just at Mrs. Bates before I rode over to Hartfield. I thought that if I rode back to my place first, I would be late for Mr. Woodhouse, so I decided to come directly from Mrs. Bates in the hopes that you would not mind me being too early." Mr. Perry explained.

"Not at all, Mr. Perry! You said that you just came from Mrs. Bates - is everything all right at the Bates?" Emma asked with concerns.

"Miss Bates sent for me early this morning to see Mrs. Bates – apparently Mrs. Bates did not sleep well last night and was coughing this morning. Miss Bates wanted me to see if there was anything that could sooth her mother."

"And is Mrs. Bates all right? Is there anything we could do for her?" Emma asked with sincerity.

"From what I could tell Mrs. Bates has come down with a cold, but that is all – nothing very serious. The good woman may look fragile, but she really is still very strong for her age. I think with the emulsion that I gave her this morning will aid her feeling better in a few days."

"I'm very glad to hear that, Mr. Perry, but is there anything we could do for Mrs. Bates?" Emma asked earnestly.

"It is very kind of you to ask Mrs. Knightley, but I don't think there is anything you need to do for the time being - all colds must run their courses, it will take at least a few days for it to past."

Emma smiled politely to acknowledge the apothecary's wisdoms in medicine. Then she remembered that she had something in mind to speak to Mr. Perry.

"Mr. Perry, since we are still waiting for my father, would you mind if I speak with you in private for a few minutes?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Knightley."

Emma led Mr. Perry to the library and as they returned to the drawing-room after quarter of an hour, Mr. Woodhouse had just come inside the house from the garden and was excited to see his visitor. Emma then excused herself to leave the two gentlemen along.

While her father was engrossed in his conversation with Mr. Perry, Emma decided to call on the Bates to see for herself how Mrs. Bates was doing.

* * *

Emma was shown by the maid to the Bates' small living-room. She curtsied as Miss Bates entered in.

"Oh! Mrs. Knightley! It is so kind of you to call this morning, so early too… what a lovely morning, you must have a nice walk from Hartfield… did you enjoy the fresh air, it is always the nicest in the morning – although it's nice in the afternoon, too. Oh, I'm so sorry – I forgot to ask how you are this morning!" Miss Bates invited Emma to sit on the sofa.

"I'm very well, thank you Miss Bates. And how are you and Mrs. Bates this morning? Mr. Perry told me that Mrs. Bates has a cold…" Emma asked.

"Thank you, Mrs. Knightley! It's so kind of you to inquire after my mother! And I'm well, too, of course. Yes, mother has a cold, but Mr. Perry says that mother is strong – wouldn't you know it, my mother is the most excellent woman, she is seventy years old and is still very strong – oh! I'm so blessed to have such a wonderful mother. Mr. Perry gave her some emulsion and she is to take it every four hours for three days. He says that this will help her cold and she will be able to rest better. She is sleeping right now, oh, I don't know if she is really sleeping, but she is in bed, I'm sure she must be sleeping by now!"

Emma was relieved to see that Miss Bates was merry as usual – which was always an indication that Mrs. Bates was well. As she listened to Miss Bates counted the blessing of having Mrs. Bates as her mother, Emma remembered what her own mother had written in her letter about never had she met a woman with more cheerful nature and contented and grateful spirit - How true indeed! What Emma had always taken as 'ridiculous' was really Miss Bates cheerfulness – what others saw as an half-empty glass would be considered as overabundance in this good woman's eyes. Emma marveled to herself that what a wonderful disposition Miss Bates had - to be happy regardless of circumstances and situations!

"Miss Bates, I have brought some arrow-root from Hartfield, and hope that it would help Mrs. Bates in some ways… perhaps it might ease her discomfort from the cold…" Emma took the small packet out of her string-purse and handed it to Miss Bates with both hands respectfully and sincerely hoped that the gift could be of use.

"Oh! Mrs. Knightley, how can I thank you! You are so kind… you are always so kind, arrow-root is very expensive, I have heard that they came all the way from the tropical area… mother and I are grateful for your kindness, Mrs. Knightley, I'm sure it will help mother very much!"

"There is no need to thank me, Miss Bates – you know how father, Mr. Knightley and I are all concerned about Mrs. Bates and yourself, we'd do anything we could to ensure your well-being!" Emma said it with a sincere smile.

When Emma first walked into the living-room, she had noticed that there was a new rocking-chair by the fireplace. She had been meaning to ask Miss Bates about the chair but wanted to inquire after Mrs. Bates first.

"Miss Bates - that is a lovely rocking-chair!"

"Oh! Isn't it the most beautiful rocking-chair! Jane and Frank sent it for mother, we received it yesterday. They are so thoughtful – when they visited us during Easter last month, Frank noticed that a screw on mother's old rocking-chair had come loose; he and Jane were concerned that the chair would fall apart when mother was sitting on it, so they insisted to order a new rocking-chair for mother in London on their way home to Enscombe. They said that most of the rocking-chairs they saw were way too large for mother and our living-room, so they had this chair custom made and that was why it took a little longer to get here! Isn't it a marvelous chair! Mother enjoys it very much; she was just sitting on it before she went to bed this morning."

"That is wonderful, Miss Bates!" Emma smiled warmly, "Jane and Frank are truly very thoughtful – I'm sure they'll be happy to know that Mrs. Bates loves the new chair very much."

"Oh yes! I wrote to them yesterday as soon as mother tried the chair… and I think after the rocking-chair, Jane and Frank are planning to replace all the furniture in our living-room! Can you imagine, ridding all of the fine furniture that we've had for over twenty years! What a waste! I told them that it's not necessary, but they insisted – they wanted to first send us the rocking-chair, because that was the most important piece, you know, Mrs. Knightley – my mother should always come first… and I think they said the sofa will be next…"

For an entire hour, Emma had listened to Miss Bates recounted her conversation with Jane and Frank on their plan to replace the living-room furniture, their visit to the Dixons and Campbell's that they had written her about, Mrs. Cole's new drapes made with fabric specially ordered from London, how fast baby Anna Weston was able to crawl, and Mrs. Elton's plan on visiting her sister in Bath this summer. It always amazed Emma how much Miss Bates knew of everything that went on in Highbury – but what amazed her even more was that, for the first time in a very long time, or ever in fact, she found Miss Bates' chatters this morning very interesting and enjoyable!

After Emma left Miss Bates' house and as she was walking back to Hartfield in a delightful spirit, she was amused by the fact that the Miss Bates this morning was the same Miss Bates that she had known since she was an infant – the only difference that had made her visit pleasant this morning was her willingness to listen to Miss Bates with a genuine heart. She wondered why all these years she had not discovered this secret - but then again, she thought to herself, with all the blunders she had made in the past, she was not surprised by not discovering it until now; and if not for her mother's guidance that had opened her heart to open her eyes, she would still be doomed to blindness!

* * *

Emma returned to Hartfield after her visit with Miss Bates, as she walked inside the house, she went to the writing desk in the drawing-room to review the delivered posts while she was out at the Bates. She went through the stack of posts one after another – first there were some bank letters and statements for her father, an agricultural report and journal for George, and then there was a letter from Isabella for her!

Emma was always excited to see letters from her dear sister. Isabella knew how much she loved to learn everything about the children and her, and she always gave a detail account of everything that had happened, and Emma was never tired of reading all the tiny details from Isabella - this letter was no exception. Isabella wrote about how much the children were enjoying the nice warm spring weather in the parks and gardens, their joy and excitement caused by their uncle's visit, she thought George never looked more spirited now that he was married, but she could tell that he was missing Emma dreadfully, and her regrets of lengthening their time apart because of the meeting with John and Mr. Edinburg; and at last her _astonishment_ of Emma's discoveries of her mother's portraits and scheme, and how _very_, _very_ excited she was about their mother's letters – and how she could not wait for the next visit at Hartfield to read them! Emma was relieved that the letter she wrote to Isabella on Tuesday reached her safely – the letter that explained why she did not write to her on Monday.

After she finished reading Isabella's letter with pleasure, Emma continued sorting through the rest of the posts. There were more agricultural bulletins for George and more bank letters for her father. Then to her pleasantest surprise, there was a post from Brentwood for her - written by her very own George! She was ecstatic to see the letter and immediately put down the rest of the posts and took the letter with her to upstairs – for she preferred to read George's letter in the privacy of her chamber.

She closed her chamber door and sat down on the sofa, where she and George had their nightly chats, and started reading…

* * *

_May 16__th__, 1816_

_Brentwood_

_My most beloved Emma,_

_I left Brunswick Square this morning, and arrived at Brentwood an hour ago. After settling down in my chamber at the inn, I thought you would like to know how my meeting with John and Mr. Edinburg went yesterday afternoon – I am glad to tell you, and trust that you would be relieved to know, that the meeting went well and the investment opportunity that John spoke of was indeed agreeable - Mr. Edinburg has drawn up a detail plan which after reviewing with him put many of my concerns a bay. John is determined to take the opportunity and was excited to have acquired my support in his decision. _**(Knowing that George approved of John's decision indeed gave Emma a huge relief, for anything that might affect Isabella and the children was always her foremost concern.)**

_I am quite certain that by now you have already heard from Isabella regarding my visit with our family at Brunswick Square, but do allow me to recount it for you from my view. _**(Emma nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, I would love to hear about your visit with our family, George!")** _We had a jovial evening visiting and talking over the latest happenings with everyone. John and Isabella were both well. They were happy to see me, but overwhelmingly wished that you could be there as well, and of course the children would have loved to see their beloved aunt as much as their parents did. But I am sure, my dearest Emma, I was the one who longed for you presence the most! _**("Oh! George!" Lovingly Emma exclaimed.)**

_It had been two months since I last seen the children, amazingly, they all seem to have grown an inch taller. You will be delighted to know that Henry's quiet manner has become more open over the last two months, he is now more interested in conversing with adults and we had a serious discussion over how his brother John has changed recently – he really enjoyed the diminished teasing from John, who, as you know, used to tease his older brother excessively. I don't know what brought about the change in John, but he seems looking up to his older brother now and prefers reading and studying with him over teasing. It is remarkable to see the changes in the two brothers – if __only my own little brother would stop his teasing toward me, I would be forever grateful. _**(Emma smiled in delight and nodded with sympathy as she thought of how torturous John's teasing could be to George at times!)**

_My namesake, little George is not so little anymore and has found a sudden interest in wrestling – you would think a grown man like me could easily handle a little fellow like him – you are mistaken, my love! The little boy could throw a punch – I would have loved to see your reaction when he punched me straight in my stomach, it still hurts even now that I'm thinking of it. _**(Emma burst into laughers picturing the wrestling scene where little George taking down big George!)**

_You will be happy to know that Bella's beautiful voice is almost approaching perfection now, and do not worry – I did not tell her that, I know how you fear it would go over her little head with too much flattery. _**(Emma shook her head in sweet disagreement and said saucily as if George could hear her, "No, George, you silly goose, please only speak for yourself - you are the one who dislikes flattery! I, on the other hand, shower Bella with all the praises she deserves. I think little girls are sent to this earth to be spoilt!")**_ However, her throat is still delicate and requires watchful attention, she is only allowed to sing two songs at a time and she used up her limits on me last night, and I thoroughly enjoyed every note of it! _

_And now, let me tell you about your namesake – little Emma is growing every bit like her aunt - the two year old is even cleverer, livelier and of course more beautiful (Did I not say that she is every bit like you, my love?) than I last saw her. _**(Emma quietly laughed in amusement and thought that the Mr. Knightley she knew before they married would never have praised her for her looks, but since they had married his vanity had overtaken his senses and allowed himself to indulge in the pride of having a beautiful wife!) **_And she also inherited from her aunt the love of attention – while Isabella, John and I were engrossed in our conversation last night, little Emma was determined to have her voice heard, she started speaking louder and louder until we all stopped to look at her – you should see the serious look on her face as she continued her gibberish with our full attention. I can't wait to see her getting into all sorts of mischief just like you did when you were little - I know what you are thinking, my love - yes, the secret is out, for all the scolding and lecturing that I gave you, though I never admitted it before, your mischief was more of a source of amusement than vexation to me! _**(With a self-satisfying grin, Emma said "I knew it, George! I always knew you enjoyed my mischief…I'm glad you've finally admitted it!")**

_As you know, Emma, I have always enjoyed my time with John, Isabella and the children, and last night was no exception. But I must tell you this – it is not the same anymore! I used to feel content with being the uncle of the children and the brother of John and Isabella, but now that I have you - I could not feel complete without your presence! As much as I treasured the time with them last night, how I wished you were there to enjoy our family together with me, and how content I would have felt if only you were by my side! _**(Emma pressed George's letter to her heart, thinking how she wished she was by his side as well!)** _I was thinking Emma, as you were able to convince your father to allow you to travel with me to the fair, do you think you could convince him to allow you to visit Brunswick Square with me sometime before their next visit to Hartfield? Would you like that idea? I would love it very much if it could happen. _**(Emma thought what a wonderful idea it would be, to visit their relatives in London, to be able to see them instead of waiting for another two months, and deliver her mother's letters to Isabella! She would never dare to contemplate such an idea in the past, but now that her father seemed to be a little different, she thought she might try to convince him when the right opportunity came.)**

_And there is one more thing I must say to you, my most beloved Emma – before I got on the carriage for my journey to London on Monday, you spoke with me about your mother's 'unusual' and 'confusing' portraits – I have been thinking about what you said and I regret that I did not take the time to ask you about them. Why are they so unusual that they are confusing to you? The thought of what you said have been worrying me, especially knowing that you had missed writing to Isabella on Monday, and you never missed writing to her before. I sincerely hope that everything is well with you, my love, or I will never forgive myself for neglecting you!_

_Your true love, eternally!_

_George_

* * *

Emma recalled what she had told George on the morning just before he took off on his journey, and she understood how those words could have troubled him. She regretted that she lacked the time and the courage to tell him more that morning; and now she pondered what she could do to ease his worries.

In a few short moments, a broad grin came onto her face as she said to herself…

"I think I have all the reasons I need now!"


	13. Preparations

**A/N: **I hate to disappoint you, but Emma is still in Highbury – being the Mistress of Hartfield, she cannot just pick up and leave for the fair! ;-) There are preparations she must complete before she could take leave. This little chapter sets the stage for the next chapter – and yes, she will be going to Kingston next. Thank you for your patience!

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Thirteen: Preparations **_

* * *

For several days, Emma had been contemplating whether to follow her mother's footstep to disguise as a gentleman to go to the fair, but she was so uncertain of the notion that she had already half-given up the idea - mostly for her lack of a compelling reason. Her mother's scheme was borne of her mother's noble intent to help her grandfather during his serious illness, but in Emma's case, no matter how much she cared and wanted to see George's world with her own eyes, she felt that it was not a cause worthy enough to risk another disagreement with him if he found out and disapproved of her scheme.

But the letters from this morning had changed everything – in George's own words and Isabella's in her letter, it was clear that he wished for Emma's presence exceedingly; even though he did not ask for her to go with him, she thought that he would welcome a surprise visit at Kingston from the one he loved so very much. Besides, as he had said in his letter that he was worrying about her - she could explain and tell him all the things that she had learnt and discovered about her mother in person. Feeling, at last, that she had enough reasons, perhaps not as compelling as her mother's, nonetheless sufficient to justify her journey to Kingston, Emma convinced herself to design a plan to travel to Kingston to give George a surprise!

As with everything that once Emma set her mind on accomplishing, she would apply her fullest to see to its success, so she carefully and meticulously drew up a list of things she must accomplish before her journey. Though Mr. Woodhouse had already expressed his approval of her traveling to the fair, out of respect for her father, Emma wished to be certain that he had not changed his mind – thus, speaking to her father regarding her plan was foremost on her list.

To Emma's greatest relief, Mr. Woodhouse continued to consent to her traveling to the fair, but did make her promise to a few conditions - that she would bring Betty along, seek after Mr. Knightley immediately after her arrival at Kingston, never travel after sun down, dress very warmly in all occasions, stay indoor as much as possible, avoid food as much as possible for outside foods were generally too rich, take a nightly gruel to aid digestion. Emma had promised to abide by all conditions except for the nightly gruel, and Mr. Woodhouse reluctantly accepted her rebuttal.

With her father's approval secured, Emma began working through her list diligently – next, she must speak with William Larkins, and she knew exactly where to find him.

* * *

It was the fifth day after the Donwell tenants' rents were due, and just as Emma had expected, William Larkins was at Donwell Abbey settling the ledger for the collected rents. He was buried deep in paperwork at the Donwell library when she arrived at the Abbey.

As Mrs. Emma Knightley, the Mistress of Donwell Abbey, though not residing at the mansion, there was no need for the footman to announce the entrance of the Mistress.

"Good morning, Mr. Larkins!" Emma said warmly as she walked into the library unannounced.

William Larkins was startled but unaffected.

"Good morning, Mrs. Knightley. How are you?" He rose slowly from his seat and looked slightly annoyed by the interruption.

"I'm very well, thank you, Mr. Larkins! And how are you this morning?" Emma said, wondering if William Larkins would ever find a reason to like her, or anyone!

"I am well, thank you." He said coolly.

"Mr. Larkins – I apologize for interrupting you settling the ledgers this morning, but I have an urgent request that I know only you could assist me with." Emma said earnestly.

"What can I do for you Mrs. Knightley?" William Larkins asked indifferently.

"Mr. Larkins… I believe you had made the arrangement for Mr. Knightley's journey to Kingston… I would really appreciate you providing me with the name and address of the inn that Mr. Knightley will be staying at…" As Emma had thought William Larkins the sternest man she knew since she was a child, she had often felt intimated by him; even though there was no reason for her to feel the same now, she was still a bit timid when making her request.

"Yes, I always make _all_ the arrangements for Mr. Knightley's journey. It is _my_ duty to ensure his journeys are as smooth as they could be."

As unaffected as William Larkins had always appeared to be, with so little of what he just said, Emma had noticed a great sense of pride in his tone, but also a subtle vulnerability in it. She knew how loyal and faithful he had been to Donwell and its masters all his life and he certainly should feel proud of his service to them; but she wondered if he ever knew how valuable he was in George's eyes and how much a respect he had gained from him. She knew very well that George had always treated all his servants and laborers with kindness and respect, but she wondered if he had ever told William Larkins what he told her during their first holiday at the Seaside – after all, George was not one who would openly expressed his feelings either.

In spite of his sternness and severity, feeling that the man deserved to know his meritorious, Emma suddenly had the urge of telling William Larkins what George told her, "Mr. Larkins, you have always done so much for Mr. Knightley and Donwell. And Mr. Knightley has told me that…" She hesitated! She was intimidated by him and not knowing what reaction would be brought about.

William Larkins stared coolly at Emma to wait for her to finish her sentence.

Still hesitant, but remembering what her mother said in her letter about listening to her heart and let it guide her words - Emma took a deep breath to gather up her courage and then fervently she said…

"Mr. Knightley told me that you have been the most loyal and faithful servant to his father, Donwell and to him. Your service to his family had sustained Donwell during the four years when he was away at Oxford after his father passed away suddenly. He said that he owed you his utmost respect and gratitude! Mr. Larkins!"

William Larkins looked down in silence for a few moments – when he looked up again and met Emma's eyes, she was very happy to see the sparkles in his eyes. His tone was softer when he next spoke.

"Mrs. Knightley, you were asking for the name and the address of the inn at Kingston – are you planning to travel to Kingston during Mr. Knightley's stay there?"

Emma nodded.

William Larkins sat back down at the desk, with quill and ink he wrote on a piece of paper. Then he stood up and walked from behind the desk to hand the paper to Emma.

"Thank you, Mr. Larkins!" Emma smiled and took the paper in her hands.

"Mr. Knightley should be arriving Kingston on Monday evening, there will be a luncheon for the landowners on Tuesday and then a dinner meeting on land improvements the same evening. The fair will go on from Wednesday through Saturday, and Mr. Knightley is to return on Sunday." William Larkins recited George's travel plan details flawlessly.

"Oh! Thank you for the intelligence, Mr. Larkins. That is precisely what I was looking for!"

William Larkins was thoughtful for a moment.

"Mrs. Knightley, I don't suppose you will be traveling alone to Kingston. Would you like me to write to the inn and secure the accommodation for your maid and coachman?" He asked respectfully.

"That is very thoughtful of you Mr. Larkins! I know you must be very busy with the ledgers (Mr. Knightley told me how busy you could be!), I would not want to trouble you, but I thank you very much for the kind offer."

"Very well, then. Please _do_ let me know if I could be of any service to you." William Larkin said sincerely.

Emma smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Larkins! I think I better let you get back to the ledgers, I saw how engrossed you were when I walked into the library…"

"Thank you, Mrs. Knightley. Fortunately, I do find that ledgers are the best sort of company to me, for I am much better with numbers than with people." William Larkins appeared embarrassed to have said as much.

Raising her eyebrows, Emma smiled, "Perhaps you may think as such, Mr. Larkins, but I think you are being unjust to yourself - I know how _good _you are with Mr. Knightley!"

William Larkins smiled.

"Good day, Mr. Larkins!" Emma curtseyed to take her leave.

"Good day, Mrs. Knightley!" William Larkins bowed and watched Emma exiting the library.

Emma walked out of the library in a delightful spirit. She was thrilled that she had conquered her fear of William Larkins, the intimidation from and the awkwardness with him that she felt for years had vanished; she was also very glad to have expressed George's gratitude to the faithful bailiff, and took pleasure in having a conversation, at last, with him; and what was more – she managed to put a smile on the face of this very unaffected man!

* * *

It was the night before her journey to Kingston, sitting alone in bed quietly, Emma carefully reviewed and marked the rest of the items on her list accomplished…

_~ Write to the inn to secure accommodation for Betty and James at the servants quarter_

_~ Receive acknowledgment from the inn for my request_

_~ Arrange for Mrs. Bates, Miss Bates and Mrs. Goddard to dine at Hartfield and play backgammon with Papa on Wednesday and Friday evenings – Mrs. Bates should be recovered from her cold by then_

_~ Arrange for Mrs. Weston and baby Anna to visit Papa on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons – leaving the two evenings to Papa's own peace and quiet_

_~ Arrange for Mr. and Mrs. Weston to dine at Hartfield with Papa on Saturday evening_

_~ Design the menu for all the meals during my absence – including the suppers where there will be guests to dine at Hartfield_

_~ Design the seating arrangement and table dressing for the suppers with guests_

_~ Arrange with Mrs. Weston of using the Weston's carriage to convey Mrs. Bates, Miss Bates and Mrs. Goddard between their homes and Hartfield the nights of their dining at Hartfield – I will be using the Hartfield carriage for my Kingston journey_

_~ Instruct Betty of what and how to pack my trunk for the journey_

_~ Give James the address of the inn at Kingston to seek out the route for the journey in advance_

_~ Instruct Betty to teach Mary how to fluff Papa's pillow_

_~ Examine how Mary fluff Papa's pillow and inspect the pillow myself_

_~ Call on Harriet_

_~ Keep all of the above as secrets from George!_

Emma smiled as she crossed off the last item on her list, and then bade her beloved George goodnight from afar for the last time before slipping under the bedcovers for a sweet restful night of slumber.


	14. Reunited, At Last

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Fourteen: Reunited, At Last **_

_**

* * *

**_

"_YES_! _It's finally Tuesday_!" was all Emma could think of when she opened her eyes. She bounced out of bed with the brightest smile on her face, skipped to the window to pull the drapes open, and was absolutely delighted to see the cheerful sun smiling at her as to bid her the pleasantest morning. She quickly completed her toilette, put on her dress, picked up the shawl and bonnet that she had set aside the previous night before hurrying downstairs to see that everything was ready for her journey.

After accompanying Mr. Woodhouse to his morning exercise in the garden, settling him in his arm-chair by the fire with a blanket on his lap and a pillow behind his back, Emma bade her father goodbye to take her leave. Though her father was still in agreement with her traveling to Kingston, his apprehension was demonstrably displayed by his holding of her hands and would not let go for almost quarter of an hour - until Emma slowly and painstakingly extracted them from his hands! She patiently promised her father many a time to abide by all his conditions (still with the exception of the nightly gruel), then planted a kiss on his forehead along with an affectionate hug, and walked out of the house without looking back – fearing that her father might see the tears in her eyes and would regret his decision and not let her go on her journey.

Feeling sad and guilty for leaving her father for the first time since her holiday with George to the Seaside, and second time ever in her life, Emma, with Betty in the carriage cabin and James on the coachman perch in the front, began trotting down in the Hartfield carriage embarking on her journey to Kingston.

* * *

If Emma had thought that the beautiful sunny morning was an omen of a smooth journey to Kingston – she was completely mistaken!

An hour into the journey, their carriage was almost overturned by James' steering sharply to the left to avoid a rabbit suddenly hopping onto the road; fortunately no one was injured and the rabbit was spared, but the mishap caused one of the front wheels to come loose and a whole hour of delay to fix the wheel.

Another hour into their journey they were met with another hurdle - the flood that happened a month ago had damaged part of the road to Kingston and now forcing a rerouting on the three travelers. The deviation from the normal course not only two-folded their traveling time, but the bumpiness of the rough road nauseated Emma to an unspeakable extent, and when they finally arrived at their destination, her head was throbbing, and her limbs were numbed.

'It cannot rain but it pours' was, in Emma's mind, most befitting when she was denied the right to her own husband's chamber! As it was meant to be a surprise, George did not know to inform the innkeeper of the expected arrival of Mrs. Knightley; and the very loyal innkeeper must abide by the inn's policy in respecting the privacy of their guests, and was not at the liberty to let Mrs. Knightley into Mr. Knightley's chamber, nor disclose his chamber location to anyone.

While Betty and James' accommodations at the inn were secured prior to their arrival, poor Emma's was not. With the many landowners and fair-goers at Kingston, the inn was without available guest chambers – except for one – the one that was most undesirable, to say the least, by any genteel guests, the one that situated immediately above the inn's kitchen, the one with its window opened to the waste-dump of the establishment, the one that was filled with unappetizing odor and ear-wrenching clanking noises from the multitudes of pots and pans down in the kitchen below – the one that added to Emma's nausea and increased the throbbing pain in her head!

Nevertheless, things seemed brighter when Betty walked into Emma's chamber and told her that James had found out, through another coachman whom he had met at the servant's quarter, who knew the inn's gardener, who knew the chambermaid on the East Wing, and who knew the chambermaid on the West Wing, where Mr. Knightley's chamber situated.

Unable to enter into George's chamber to carry out her surprise as planned, Emma quickly conjured up a new plan for an alternative – sending him an anonymous note, simply stating "Begging for your presence at my chamber upon your return this night!", and written with her left hand, for George undoubtedly would recognize her usual hand in an instant, and slipping it under the foot of his chamber-door for his discovery when he returned.

With the prospect of only entrapping in this awful smelly chamber for an hour or two, Emma was determined to overlook all unpleasant circumstances and patiently awaiting for George's return from his dinner meeting.

* * *

It was almost nine o'clock when George returned that evening, and without a hitch he saw the note on the floor straight away. He picked up the note, read it - his face darkened! Without delay, he headed to the innkeeper's in an extremely annoyed spirit.

"Good evening, Sir!" The innkeeper greeted him warmly as he walked up to the front-desk.

"Good evening." Handing the note to the innkeeper politely but sounding peeved, "I found this note on the floor inside my chamber, do you know who delivered it to my chamber?"

"Humph! I'm sorry, Sir, I don't have the faintest idea how this arrived at your chamber."

"Well then. Do you know if it is a lady or gentleman staying at this chamber?" George asked, trying to suppress his growing irritation.

"Sir, it is our inn's policy to never disclose the name of our guest without approval." The innkeeper said apologetically.

"I do _not_ wish to know the name of the guest; I only _need_ to know if this is a gentleman or lady." Making his point very clear, George's frustration was obvious to the innkeeper.

"In that case, Sir, I don't think there is a policy against such disclosure, let me look up the guest register..." After a short moment, the innkeeper informed George that the guest in question was a lady.

Upon hearing that it was a lady who sent the note, George's face turned even darker, he crumbled the note in his hand, left it on the front-desk, and said to the innkeeper "Thank you." Then he walked back to his chamber fuming with vexation and annoyance.

* * *

It was four hours ago when Emma sent Betty to slip the note into George's chamber, and resolved to be waiting patiently and expectantly for the knock on the door from her husband. Now at eleven o'clock and still no George in sight. Emma's exhaustion had overtaken her body as well as her spirit, and her determination to wait patiently had long worn out along with the hope of seeing George tonight. As she was about to change into her nightgown to retire to bed, she thought to herself _"What if he did not see the note?"_

Without a moment of hesitation, Emma left her chamber heading to George's. In spite of her fatigued body and haggard spirit, being cognizant of the late hours and guests who had already retired, she did not give into improprieties and lack of considerations - she gingerly and quietly walked through the various long passageways and corridors without making a sound.

She finally reached George's chamber and was ecstatic to see flickering of lights coming through the crack at the foot of the door. She smiled mischievously and placed a quiet knock on his door.

"_No answer! He might not have heard the knock_." She thought.

"_Knock again!_" And she did, quietly, _"Still no answer!"_

Quietly, she knocked again, and again, and again, and again…

* * *

_"How dare this woman to be calling me at this unceremonious hour? Can't she take a rejection and preserve some dignity for herself!" _This was all George could think of the entire time when Emma was knocking outside his chamber.

Unbeknown to Emma, George had mistaken the sender of the anonymous note to be some courtesan or mistress residing at the inn! Over the years, George had seen many landowners and wealthy gentlemen traveling in and out of inns arm-in-arm with their mistresses. Part of him sympathized with those ladies who had to degrade themselves to such situation, but his sympathy quickly vaporized when he saw the flirtatious looks and signals they sent to other men even as they were in the arms of their misters. Let the truth be told, this was not the first time he had received an unsolicited invitation from an unknown lady while he was at a foreign town, and as usual, he was completely disgusted by the gesture – thus determined not to answer the knock!

* * *

Emma had been knocking on the door for almost ten minutes and was certain that someone was inside, for she could hear noises coming from some movements. But why would he not come to the door?

Even with all that had happened during the day, and her frustration that had been mounting and tears that were on the verge of bursting out of her eyes, she was not about to give up. After all, she had been waiting for four hours and it would not do to give up now - still maintaining her decorum, she quietly knocked on.

* * *

With his aggravation and impatience intensifying at the caller outside his chamber, George finally feared he must make his rejection in person – he tossed his agricultural journal down on the writing desk in frustration, stood up abruptly from his chair and reached the door in three long strides and swung it open.

To his absolute astonishment, never had he expected to see his beloved wife standing in front of him holding up her fist almost knocked onto his chest!

"Emma!" He cried, astounded.

"George…" Emma said timidly, looking at George with red teary eyes.

For an instant, George was completely escaped of words and unable to move.

At the next instant, Emma threw her arms around his neck, and began to sob bitterly, her head resting on his chest.

"Are you all right, Emma? Is everything all right? Did something happen at Hartfield? What about your father? How did you get here?" The shock of having Emma in his arms and the fear of something terrible had happened caused his heart to beat uncontrollably.

As Emma still sobbing, George continued to hold her in one hand, and let go of the other to quietly push the door to shut. He slowly removed Emma's arms from his neck, steadied her to stand still and cupped her teary cheeks with his hands to look at her face.

"You look so pale, Emma!" As Mrs. Weston had once described, Emma had always been the picture of health, it pained George to see the colorless figure standing in front of him.

"What happened? Please tell me, what had happened, what brought you here?" George asked urgently.

After her sobs subsided and sniffling her last sniffles, Emma looked up at George, with her best effort she gathered up a half smile on her face and said in a barely audible voice.

"Surprise!"

"_Surprise_?" Astonished, George repeated, "You came all the way to Kingston to _surprise_ me?"

She nodded and began blurting out, "But it _wasn't_ supposed to happen like this… I was supposed to wait for you at your chamber, but I couldn't… and you were supposed to come to mine, but you didn't … what happened George? I left you a note, did you not find it?"

"A _note_! You mean the note on the floor? But… it wasn't signed… and I didn't know that it was from you, Emma!" Barely having enough time to take in the sight of Emma in front of him, George could not believe she was the sender of the note.

"Of course it wasn't signed… it was meant to be a surprise, George! If you saw the note, why did you not answer it?" In her frustration, Emma moved a few steps away from George.

"Hum… Emma, I thought the note was from… from... " George stammered.

"From _whom_ George? Whom did you think the note was from?"

"I thought… I thought it was from some… some mistress or courtesan of somebody!" George had always been honest and opened with Emma about everything since they were married, but it never occurred to him that this would become a subject of their conversation one day.

"_What_…" Emma trailed off, trying to comprehend what she had just heard.

In her dismay, she asked, "You mean _those__… those things… _I mean … _ladies _are _real_?I mean… I knew they were real… but I… I had always thought… they were… far away… and … and rare… "

George nodded, taking couple steps closer to Emma, he carefully added, "_They_ are real, Emma! You have lived in the quiet countryside and been sheltered from these sorts of things all your life. _Those things _and _ladies _are more common than you think; they are in many places, especially in places and occasions like this – where men are away from their homes, from their wives…"

Knowing George was right, Emma admitted to herself that she had long heard of such things but never given much thought to them. Never had she imagined the kind of 'lives' that some men would live or realized the kind of temptations that some would face while away from their wives – she would never have thought that George might mistaken her note for this particular reason!

A blush had reddened her colorless face as she said shyly, "You mean… you thought… the note was from one of those _ladies_… was that why you didn't come to my chamber… and why you didn't answer the door?"

George nodded and guiltily he said, "I'm sorry, Emma, I have always found these invitations repulsive and disgusting, I would never give a thought in answering such request… but if I knew it was you, I would have gone to you immediately…"

"You mean… you have had these… invitations… _before_?" Emma moved a step closer to George, looking intently into his eyes, "You mean… you were never… tempted…_ever_?"

George moved another step closer to Emma, looking deeply into her hazel eyes and said vehemently, "Never in my entire life, and never will, Emma!"

"_Oh_… _I love you, __George_!"

For the second time tonight, Emma threw her arms around George's neck, but instead of sobbing bitterly, she kissed him with all the strengths she had left, and George, pulling her ever closer, eagerly returning her kiss with even more intensity.

When they finally broke their lips apart, with the tip of their noses still touching, they slowly opened their eyes to see the smiles they had longed for dreadfully the last ten days. Then George raised his hand to caress Emma's cheek tenderly and asked, "Now, will you _please_ tell me what happened, my dearest Emma?"

* * *

They sat on the sofa while Emma recounted everything that had happened during the day to George – that how her carriage almost overturned, how the rerouting extended the long journey, how the innkeeper denied her to his chamber, how she had to take the last available chamber which was horrible, and at last, how long and anxiously she had waited for him to knock on her door!

It was past midnight, Emma was completely exhausted and had fallen asleep in George's arms on the sofa. Just when George carried and laid her down gently on bed, he heard a quiet knock on the door – though it was odd to have a caller at this late hour, the most unusual thing had already happened this night, he did not hesitate to answer the door this time.

"Good evening, Mr. Knightley!" To his surprise, it was Betty.

"Oh! Good evening, Betty."

"Sorry for disturbing you at this late hour, Mr. Knightley… I didn't find Mrs. Knightley in her chamber and thought I heard her voice when I came by yours… I brought Mrs. Knightley's nightgown and her change of clothes for the morrow."

"That is very thoughtful of you, Betty! Mrs. Knightley is exhausted; could you please come in and help her change into her nightgown?"

"Yes, Mr. Knightley!"

After Betty finished and was about to take her leave, George spoke to her quietly.

"Betty, did the carriage stop every hour during your journey today? Mrs. Knightley is not used to riding for long journeys, and she must rest every hour in order to settle her nausea." George had learnt this about Emma during their Seaside holiday journey.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Knightley! Mrs. Knightley was very anxious to get here and she wouldn't let James stop the carriage until…"

"Until when?"

"Until she had to vomit… we stopped four times…"

George sighed, shook his head and continued to ask, "Then, had she have much supper tonight?"

Betty shook her head regretfully and explained, "All Mrs. Knightley wanted was to wait for you to come to her chamber… she only had a little bit of bread… "

Another long sigh and George lamented to himself quietly, _"That would not do!"_

"Thank you, Betty. It's very late, you should retire for the night. I will see you in the morning."

"Thank you, Mr. Knightley!"

* * *

While Emma was sleeping sweetly in bed, George put away his agricultural journal and changed into his nightshirt. Then he placed the last burning candle on the small table by the bed as he sat quietly next to Emma - watching her sleep.

Brushing her long silky hair away from her forehead, tracing her delicate face tenderly with his finger, and watching her in slumbers, it pained George to think of what Emma had suffered to come to Kingston - and she did it all for him! He thought to himself, how much he had wished for her presence, and how true it was that his world would not be complete without her being there, he was deeply touched by her surprise and truly grateful to have her by his side.

As his gaze shifted from his beloved wife to around the inn chamber, George could not help but reflect on how his world was in turmoil this time only a year ago…

It was in this chamber – where he stayed every time when he came to Kingston, for its being removed from the bustling of the inn and its tranquility that allowed him to read his books and journals quietly at night after a busy day; but even with all the tranquility of the world could not have calmed his greatly troubled spirit a year ago. It was in this very chamber, after searching, and searching deeply into his heart he eventually and completely confessed to himself that he was hopelessly in love with Emma.

It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill that had awakened him to his romantic feelings for his old friend, what he did not realize was the immensity of his feelings! For Emma had always held a special place in his life as well as his heart since she was a child, he hardly knew when his affection for her had transformed from that of a partial old friend to a forlorn admirer. Perhaps he had long been in love with her since she had grown into a woman; it was only their long-standing friendship that had deceived him to think the flutter he felt in his stomach every time he saw her as merely the joy and excitement of seeing an old friend.

It was in this chamber where he agonized over the thought of Emma might be in love with Frank Churchill, and that must be the reason why she was looking forward to the Crown Inn Ball so exceedingly. And it was in this same chamber, where he promised himself he would not jeopardize her happiness by interfering her attachment with the young man, or rivaling for her affection with him - even though it was uncharacteristic of him to ever give up without fighting a good fight, for he had always believed in asserting himself to his fullest to achieve his goals, Emma's happiness was far too important for him to be thinking of himself - if she was indeed in love with Frank Churchill, he would be willing to suffer, regardless of how painful and tormenting it would be, and standby her to love and protect her silently from a distance…

He took a deep breath as he awakened from this miserable memory of a year ago, and smiled at the heavenly sight of Emma sleeping angelically in front of him, as his beloved wife, his old friend, his and only his Emma! Not a day had gone by he did not thank God for bestowing him with this sweetest and best of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults! The tormenting heartache, dreadful misery, and indescribable confusion that he felt a year ago had long been replaced with something so like perfect happiness, that it could bear no other name!

Feeling complete and content, George put out the candle, quietly laid down next to his precious wife, gently slid his arm under her neck and shoulders to hug her close and placed a tender kiss on the top of her head; and Emma, in her half-wake, half-sleep state, snuggled herself up against George, and whispered…

"_mmmm… I love you, George…goodnight…"_

"_Sweet dreams, Emma… I love you!"_


	15. A Gentleman at the Fair

**A/N: **Thank you so much for your reviews! Hope you'll find the change in the story focus an interesting read. :-)

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Fifteen: A Gentleman at the Fair**_

* * *

"Good morning, my _handsomest_ _sleepyhead_!" With her chin on George's shoulder, and elbow on his chest, Emma looked up at him smilingly and traced his jaw softly with her fingers.

"_Hmm_… Good morning, my dear… " George was barely awake, but could not be happier to wake up to the sight of his beautiful wife.

He raised his arms to a long stretch and a yawn, then wrapped them around her shoulders and said in a husky voice, "Looks like someone had a restful sleep last night! I like that rosy color on your face; I had never seen you look so pale before last night, Emma!"

"Of course I had a very restful night - I had the most comfortable pillow in the _whole_ world!" Nestling her face in the crook of his neck, she playfully patted his chest and laughed.

"So I suppose you missed this 'pillow' back at Hartfield?" George said slyly.

"Hmm, hmm… _very, very much_!" She said it with a blush.

George placed a tender kiss on Emma's forehead, and then changed his tone to a more serious one.

"Emma, before I got on the carriage last Monday, you had mentioned the two portraits of your mother that they were 'unusual' and 'confusing', I have been worrying about you since then. Could you tell me more about the portraits and why they were unusual and confusing?"

Both Emma and George were now sitting up in their bed, looking at each other as they continued their conversation.

Emma smiled, "I was too exhausted last night to tell you about them, but I'm so glad you asked."

"The day before you left for Brunswick Square, Papa gave me the two portraits which I had never seen before. One of them was a beautiful likeness of Mama, she looked stunning in it; but the other one was different!"

"Different? How was it so?" From the sparkles in Emma's eyes, George was intrigued.

"Hum… you never would have guessed unless you saw it yourself - the other one was my very own mother dressed as a _gentleman_!" Emma lowered her voice as if there were someone else besides the two of them would hear the secret.

"_What_?" That snapped out of George's mouth unintentionally.

"I'm sorry Emma, I didn't mean to be disrespectful to your mother… but… your mother dressed as a _gentleman_ was indeed unusual… I'm sure there must be a good explanation!"

"Yes, George, there was truly a very good explanation – it was confusing to me at first when Papa told me, but when I understood the reason behind my mother's action, I was no longer confused…"

So while they were sitting in bed, Emma told George what her father revealed to her the morning when he gave her her mother's portraits, and what she had learnt of her mother and grandfather from her interview with Mrs. Thompson at her cottage. She also told George how she discovered her mother's letters to her and Isabella up in the Hartfield attic and wished she had those letters years ago, but more importantly how, through those letters, her mother's teachings and guidance had already impacted her in the most profound ways – that she had apologized to Harriet, for convincing her to refuse Robert Martin's proposal, in the hope to re-establish a genuine friendship between them; how she realized she was a spoiled child and was thankful for her father, Miss Taylor and Mr. Knightley to guide her when she was growing up; how she now understood the 'ridiculous' in Miss Bates was really her simple and cheerful nature that deserved her admiration and genuine respect; and how she conquered her fear of William Larkins and expressed the gratitude on behalf of George for his service to Donwell and its masters by following her mother's words to let her heart guide her words and actions!

George was amazed by how much had happened to Emma while he was absent from Hartfield for the last ten days, and was even more amazed by the impact from the letters of his late mother-in-law on his beloved wife.

He held Emma in his arms tightly and spoke in his tenderest voice, "My dearest Emma, your mother was truly a remarkable woman to be sacrificing herself to do the unthinkable for her father. And I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that you have found your mother's letters - I know how much your mother had loved you when she was alive, I'm grateful that you could experience her love for you even as a grown woman through her words!"

Looking into Emma's eyes, George smiled, "And I have always believed you had inherited your mother's talents, and she was the only one who could cope with your willfulness and able to cause you under subjection – those letters have done more in a _few_ days than what I had tried for _years_!"

Emma gave George a soft smile, pressing her hand on his cheek gently, "I'm so sorry George, for putting you through my follies and blunders for all those years! If I would have had my mother's guidance when I was younger, perhaps you would love me even more for being a better person!"

George creased his brows in disagreement, "My most beloved Emma, I have always loved you for who you are - faults and all! Mistakes we made in the past are what make of us today, it was 'perfect' as it was meant to be - nothing could ever make me love you _less_, or 'more' in that respect!" Then he lifted a playful eyebrow to say, "Besides, if you were too _perfect_, I might not have been _perfect_ enough to win your love, don't you think, my love?"

"_Ah! __Mr. Knightley_! I think I have to agree with you _this_ time, things were indeed 'perfect' the way they were! For if I were a better person_, _I would have missed the years of joy from torturing you with my willful whims and fancies, and you would have missed the pleasure of scolding and lecturing me for all my blunders!" Softly and mischievously Emma squeezed George's nose, crinkled her own little one and giggled, "I suppose we are two _perfectly__-__imperfect_ peas in a pod!"

George burst into laughter while Emma giggled on!

A moment later, Emma, looking excited, asked enthusiastically, "So, what time are we suppose to go to the fair? I hope we have enough time to change and have breakfast!"

George cleared his throat and said, "Emma… 'we'?"

"Hmm, hmm… 'we'!" Emma nodded, looking at George with her sparkling bright hazel eyes.

George was thoughtful, knowing what he was about to say would not please her, but with sincerity he said, "Emma… I know you came all the way to Kingston to surprise me, and I am so glad you did, for I was missing you dreadfully… but we had talked about this at Hartfield, the reason I did not want you to go to the fair had not changed…"

Emma's sparkling eyes dimmed, she pursed her lips and frowned, "So… even after _all_ I had gone through to come _all_ the way here, you still won't let me go with you?"

George nodded slowly.

Exasperated, Emma said, "Fine!"

A moment later, eyes squinting, Emma spoke saucily to George. "If I can't go… you can't go either!" She used her arms to entrap George's shoulders.

Relieved to see Emma's disappointment faded away so quickly, George returned her playfulness with a smug on his face. "Just how are you going to stop me from going, my love?"

"I have _my_ ways…" Teasingly she began nibbling on his earlobe.

"Well… I don't mind being shut up in this chamber with you for the _entire_ day if that is _your way_…' Clasping Emma close to him, George brought his beloved wife into a passionate kiss.

* * *

After they had their breakfast in their chamber, George, grinning widely, was standing by the door waiting for Emma, as a child waiting for sweetmeats, to do the one thing that he loved and missed very much whenever he was traveling away from her – to let her fuss over him! When he was a bachelor, he never would have foreseen how he loved being fussed over by his wife; now that he was married, Emma's fussing over him was one of the most endearing traits of her love and affection to him. And Emma would not have it any other way – lovingly, she softly smoothed his dark hair with her fingers, gently tightened his matching cravat, carefully checking for all his vest buttons fastened, and pressing his lapels to straighten with her delicate hands. Satisfied with her impeccably dressed and meticulously groomed husband, she pressed a tender kiss on his lips, walked him out of the chamber, then the inn, and sent him off to the fair.

When Emma came back inside the inn, and walked pass the front-desk, her attention was caught by a conversation between the innkeeper and a lady, who looked to be ten to fifteen years Emma's senior and was very finely dressed.

To Emma's surprise, the lady was requesting the innkeeper to let her in her husband's chamber, and was denied - just like she was denied to George's chamber the day before. As Emma knew she had already taken the last available chamber, she felt very sorry for the lady for not even having a place to rest while waiting for her husband's return, so with sympathy she walked up to speak to the lady.

"Pardon me, Madam, I don't mean to intrude, but I couldn't help to overhear your conversation with the innkeeper… I want to let you know that I was in the same difficult situation as yours yesterday and was denied to my husband's chamber."

"Oh! What a coincident!" The lady said politely.

"But I think I was more fortunate - at least I was able to secure the last available chamber… even though it was the least desirable one." Emma smiled ruefully. "Since it is still early in the day, and I suspect your husband must be out at the fair… if you would like, you could take a rest in my chamber and wait for your husband's return comfortably."

"That is so kind of you! Mrs.…"

"Mrs. Knightley!"

"That is so kind of you, Mrs. Knightley. And I'm Mrs. Morgan. I'm very pleased to meet you! I cannot possibly impose such inconvenience on you, Mrs. Knightley! It will likely be hours before Mr. Morgan returns."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Morgan! But there is no inconvenience at all… you see, my maid had already removed all my belongings to my husband's chamber, so it's now an empty chamber. Only if you don't mind, you're very welcomed to stay at my chamber for the rest of the day."

"Mrs. Knightley, I'm so grateful for your kindness! I traveled most of last night to be here early this morning to see my husband, but my journey was lengthened because of the road damage from the flood, when I finally arrived, he had already gone… it would be wonderful to have a place to rest and refresh myself. If this is not inconvenience for you, I would love to take up your kind offer!"

And that was settled – Emma was happy to hand the key of her chamber to Mrs. Morgan and bid her good-day to leave her to her privacy.

As soon as Mrs. Morgan was not insight, Emma turned to Betty and said to her.

"Come, Betty, we have much work to do, please go fetch my gentlemen items and meet me at Mr. Knightley's chamber!"

* * *

In the mean time, George had already arrived at the fair, which was only two blocks away from the inn. As with all agricultural fairs, which provided a great opportunity and forum for landowners, farmers and those who had vested interests in farming and land improvements to come and discuss their passion, his attention was immediately drawn to a crowd of gentlemen and farmers alike who apparently were having a discussion on the draining of lands. He walked up to the crowd and began to listen keenly to the speaker.

Several minutes later, George felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around.

"Mr. Dickenson! Good morning, how are you?" George was always readily delighted to see his old gentleman friend, and the two gentlemen shook hands cordially.

"Good morning! Mr. Knightley - I'd be doing better if this coxcomb isn't speaking!" George stifled a laughed at Mr. Dickenson's comment. While many might find the bluntness of Mr. Dickenson quite unbecoming, George had always thought this gentleman the most unpretentious man he knew and often found his honesty very insightful and often times amusing.

"So how long have you been listening to him speaking this nonsense?" Sounding exasperated, Mr. Dickenson was obviously annoyed by the speaker.

"Only for a few minutes, Mr. Dickenson." George answered.

"Mr. Knightley, I don't know how you could stand listening to this scoundrel for even a second!"

"Mr. Dickenson, I know how much you dislike Mr. Morgan." George smiled.

"'_Dislike'_ is an understatement, Mr. Knightley – I think '_despise'_ would be the right word to describe how I feel about this Morgan fellow! This scoundrel comes to Kingston with a different mistress in his arm every year… he knows nothing about farming and land improvement, but always quick to give his erroneous comments and advice to those who don't know better! I just hope no one takes his words seriously to follow through - telling everyone to two-fold the investment on their existing draining system will surely cost all their fortune in two years!" Mr. Dickenson said it with a frown.

"Humph! Mr. Dickenson, I think you have a good point – it would indeed be most unfortunate if someone does follow his advice." George was thoughtful, "Perhaps I should try to better inform this audience." And then he began to weave himself through the crowd and step up to the speaker.

"Aha! I thought I saw you somewhere in the crowd Mr. Knightley of Donwell." Mr. Morgan said it in his usual contemptuous manner. "I know how often you disagree with my view, but I dare say you will side with me this time!"

"Mr. Morgan, as I only began to listen a few minutes ago, I might not have heard all your points; please do allow me to recount what I heard to ensure it is indeed your view." George said politely, and he continued as he saw the half-nod from Mr. Morgan. "I believe you were saying that landowners must at least two-fold our investments on the existing draining system in order to turn our clay-based heavy farm lands into free-draining light lands in order to grow fodder crops, especially turnips, for feeding stock through the winter."

"I'm glad you were paying attention, Mr. Knightley! And that was exactly what I said!" Mr. Morgan made no effort to hide the smirk on his face.

"Well then, I'm glad I have recounted your view accurately, Mr. Morgan. Now, please allow me to express my view on the subject." George began to address both Mr. Morgan and the crowd in his unpretentious gentlemanly manner, with the goal to inform the crowd and enable them to form a more educated opinion for themselves.

"Mr. Morgan, as I agree with you that free-draining lands will allow the growth of fodder crops for feeding stock through the winter, I cannot agree that two-folding our investment on the existing draining system could turn heavy farmlands into light ones. While the nature of the land cannot be altered, the draining of the clay-based land will indeed help reduce the heaviness and the moisture-retentiveness of such land, thus make it more flexible to work with fodder crops and other crop rotations."

Effortlessly, George had captured the audience's full attention and curiosity. Everyone was silent as they listened to him continuing on his view.

"You spoke of draining system – but I would add that one must be careful with _what_ draining system one is speaking of. As water can enter the soil from above by rain or from below through rising groundwater, both sources of water, if not removed could cause the water table within the soil to rise and eventually produce surface water-logging, so inhibit crop growth. While the existing draining system that you spoke of only remove the water from above ground leaving the below ground water continue to saturate the soil, the provision of underdrains will act as an outlet to this excessive soil water, lowering the level of saturation and reduce water-logging in the upper layers of the soil so as to encourage plant development. The ultimate intention of underdraining is to reproduce as far as possible the condition of free-draining land, workable all year around save during and immediately after rainfall and, where after-rain excess soil water is removed quickly, leaving an optimum soil moisture content for both plant growth and cultivation."

At that moment, Mr. Dickenson stepped up beside George, applauding him for his enlightening speech, and added, "Therefore by two-folding the investment on the _existing_ draining system, you are draining _more_ of your fortunate than the soil water!"

The crowd started to laugh and Mr. Morgan's face darkened.

"In my humble opinion, I think it would serve everyone well for landowners and tenants to work together to first assess accurately the conditions of their lands and then explore the appropriate draining technology that suit their needs best." George added graciously.

Mr. Morgan had disappeared while George was making his last statement. The crowd was grateful for George's insights and continued to inquire him on the underdraining technology for quite some time before dissipating to other parts of the fair.

"Thank you, Mr. Knightley! That was extremely well-said, I am really grateful for your insight. I dare say it was especially educational for the crowd, I'm sure they will have you to thank for saving their fortune!" Mr. Dickenson exclaimed.

"There is no need to thank me, Mr. Dickenson. I was merely doing my duty as someone who's keen on sharing his knowledge on the subject. As a landowner, it is my duty to strive for the best improvement of all sorts, be it land, agricultural, or even self, for my country and my fellow countrymen."

"Admirable! Truly admirable, Mr. Knightley! And may I add that I'm as delighted as I was enlightened – you sure showed that Morgan fellow a lesson!" Mr. Dickenson laughed.

George smiled and tipped his hat.

At that instant, Mr. Dickenson seemed to have notice something unusual about George – he tilted his head as he stared at George's neck.

George was bewildered. "Mr. Dickenson, may I ask if there's something wrong with my neck?"

"Humph! Mr. Knightley, you're wearing a cravat pin… I had never seen you wearing a cravat pin before…"

George was amused by how Mr. Dickenson could even notice the smallest difference in everything.

"Mr. Dickenson, you never cease to amaze me with your observant eyes! And yes, I am indeed wearing a cravat pin. Mrs. Knightley likes to use a cravat pin to secure my cravat, whereas I do not use one when I tie the cravat myself."

"Mrs. Knightley? You mean your lovely wife is here in Kingston?" Mr. Dickenson was surprised.

"Yes, Mrs. Knightley arrived at Kingston last night." George could never keep his grin off his face whenever speaking of his beloved Emma.

"But… why did you not mention that she would be here when we were at Brentwood? I had thought that I would never have the pleasure of meeting her in person. If I knew she would be in Kingston, it would have given me the pleasure of looking forward to meet her, Mr. Knightley!"

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Dickenson, even _I_ didn't know that she would be here at Kingston until last night"

"You mean… Mrs. Knightley came to Kingston … to surprise you?"

George nodded with twinkles in his eyes.

Mr. Dickenson laughed his hearty laugh.

"Oh! I love it, absolutely love it! Young lovers these days are so… so inventive… full of excitement! When my wife and I were at your age, we did what we were supposed to do, when we were supposed to do it and where and how we were supposed to do it… there were never any surprises. Oh! How lovely it is to have a surprise from your wife!"

George's face reddened as he replied, "I must say that it was indeed the most pleasant surprise to have Mrs. Knightley here at Kingston, for I was quite missing her!"

"What do you mean by _quite_ missing her? Say you were missing her _very_, _very_ much, George! There is no need to hide your feelings from this old man... you know how I always notice _everything_, don't you?"

George nodded, still with the wide grin on his face.

"Very well, you must let me meet her in person. I won't take no for an answer, George. You are the son of my dear friend - his daughter-in-law is like my own daughter-in-law. You will not deny me the pleasure of meeting her, will you?"

"Mr. Dickenson, it will give me the greatest pleasure to have you meet Mrs. Knightley!" George said sincerely.

Shortly after their conversation, the two gentlemen parted. George went on to the Cattle market looking for farm oxen for the Donwell home farm, while Mr. Dickenson headed to the farm wares market to look for farming wares and tools for his home farm.

* * *

Back at the inn, Emma had already dressed in her gentleman clothes and shoes, and Betty had painstakingly pinned up her long luscious silky hair and secured the gentleman wig over her hair. With a little bit of paste, Emma was putting the final touch on her face - the mustache. As soon as the mustache was attached securely, Emma stood in front of the full-length mirror to examine her 'gentleman' image.

"Oh! Mrs. Knightley… You look so _handsome_!" Betty was in awe by how handsome Emma the 'gentleman' was, she covered her cheeks with both her hands as she could feel the blush and warmth coming onto her face.

"Thank you, Betty! I must admit that I do look quite dashing as a 'gentleman'." Jokingly Emma added, "I'm so glad that I'm married to Mr. Knightley already, otherwise I might fall in love with myself!"

Emma and Betty both burst into their happy girlish giggles.

Betty's countenance changed and became serious when she asked, "Mrs. Knightley, do you think Mr. Knightley will find out?"

"Humph… I don't think so." Emma was thoughtful, "I had gone through _so __much_ to come to Kingston, and I'm _so_ close to the fair - I can't possibly go home without seeing the things at the fair with my own eyes! You see, these are very important things to Mr. Knightley and I care about them as well! I am only going to observe, I won't talk to anyone… and I most _certainly_ will not let Mr. Knightley see me!"

"But… what if Mr. Knightley finds out… do you think he would be angry with us?" Betty was very concerned.

Emma laughed, "Don't you worry, Betty, I truly don't think Mr. Knightley will find out – and if he does, he won't be angry with you."

"But will he be angry with you? You're always so kind to me, Mrs. Knightley… I don't want Mr. Knightley to be angry with you!"

Emma appreciated Betty's concerns and thought to herself – George had always been keen on overlooking and forgiving her harmless mischief and follies, the only times he was ever angry with her were for her meddling over Harriet's refusal of Robert Martin's marriage proposal, and her slighting of Miss Bates on Box Hill. Nevertheless, even though she knew her intention was right, the fact that she was going to the fair in spite of their previous disagreement and his open disapproval worried her. She secretly hoped that George would never find out.

She put on a smile for Betty and said, "Let us not worry about it, Betty! So, do you think I'm ready?"

"I think so, Mrs. Knightley!"

Emma put on the top hat and took one last look of her gentleman image in front of the mirror, then turned to Betty and said in all seriousness, "Remember, Betty, you _cannot_ call me Mrs. Knightley as soon as we walk out of this chamber!"

"Then… what should I call you Mrs. Knightley?"

"Humph… my mother was Isabel Hamley… _'I'… 'Ia'… _"

Emma was deep in thought for a moment.

"And I shall be '_Ian_ _Hamley__'_!"


	16. A 'Gentleman' at the Fair

**A/N:** This chapter is all about Emma! :-)

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Sixteen: A 'Gentleman' at the Fair**_

_**

* * *

**_

Back when she was at Hartfield, with only a little practice, Emma had already perfected her gentleman stride, and mastered her gentleman voice. In her gentlemanly manner, she walked with air and grace the two blocks from the inn and arrived at the fairground in less than quarter of an hour. As she was standing at the entrance of the fairground, she could not help but be struck by the enormity of it – she had never seen or even heard of anything like this in Highbury. Excitedly she paid her dues and was admitted into the fairground full of anticipation. Not knowing where to even start, she began to survey the ground.

The first part of the fair, which was near the entrance, was made of a great multitude of markets – there was a market for farm wares and merchandise, a spice market, a fish and oyster market, a corn market, a market for dairy, butter and cheese, a market for fruits and vegetables, a market for poultry and eggs, many butcher shambles, there were even markets for honey, flowers, herbs, grains and more.

The ground was full of bustles and noises, laughing and shouting from the farmers and merchants as they greeted each other and exchanged good wishes for a profitable day of business; there were the sound and stench of animals, as well as the foul lingering smell of the unwashed plowmen and drovers nearby. Swarms of people, mostly maids and servants sent by their employers, were hovering over the various booths in the different markets to make their selections and purchases.

Emma was in awe - of course there were markets in Highbury, but nothing could compare to the magnitude of what was in front of her eyes! The butcher shambles and fish and oyster markets seemed to be the favorites of the crowds, she decided to visit the fruits and vegetables market, where was less peopled.

* * *

She strolled by booth after booth of fresh produces, several times she stopped to admire the quality and varieties of the fruits and vegetables that were not available at Highbury. Wondering if she could find apples from the Donwell orchard at Kingston, Emma began looking for apple-stands, and very soon after, her eyes were caught by a young woman chasing after the apples that had just rolled off from a stack of neatly arranged apples on one of the stands at her booth.

She was amused by the sight of the young woman frantically running after and picking up the rolled away apples, but could not help but feeling sorry for her. She took a few long strides to reach the apple stand and began picking up the apples alongside the young woman.

Emma filled both her hands with apples and handed them to the young woman.

"Thank you very much, sir!" The young woman took the apples from Emma and thanked her shyly with a deep blush on her face.

Emma returned with a warm smile and said kindly, "You're very welcomed!"

Then immediately with a raised eyebrow she said, "If nature would only give us fruits that are flat instead of round, it may save you the grief from chasing after the peaches that are about to run away..." Glancing over at the peach-stand behind the young woman to hint to her a pile of peaches was about to roll off the stand.

The young woman turned around, gasped, and ran frantically to the peaches. Emma went after her to help picking up the peaches that just fell. Right at that moment, a man in very fine clothing walked to the stand and began to make noises.

"Ahem… Ahem!"

The young woman looked up as she heard the noise. She rose to walk up to the man.

"Lydia, I want some apples this morning." The man said coolly.

"Auh…yes… sir… how many would you like?" The young woman voice was not steady. Emma noticed the fear in her as she was watching carefully the interaction between the young woman and the man in silence. She did not like the sound or the demeanor of the man.

"However many you could hold with both your hands." There was a smirk on the man's face.

The young woman picked as many apples as her hands could hold, wrapped them in paper and hesitantly walked to the man to hand him the apples. As she slowly handed the apples to the man, he grabbed her hands and would not let go.

Emma was appalled by his vulgar conduct, she immediately walked up to the man, and in her firm gentleman voice she said directly at him.

"You are buying apples, _not_ her hands!"

Surprised by Emma's interference, the man looked at her and spoke in the most contemptuous tone, still grabbing the young woman's hands in his.

"I'm only trying to get my apples. That's all. If she would let go of _my_ apples, I would let go of _her_ hands!"

Emma was furious and demanded the man, "Let – go – of – her – hands!"

The man suddenly let go, and the package of apples fell off the young woman's hands all the way to the ground. With a smirk on his face, the man said to the young woman, "Hah! Look what you've done! I don't want them anymore." And he walked away.

The young woman wiped the tears off her face and bent down to pick up the smashed apples.

As the anger and pounding in her heart subsided, Emma felt tender for the young woman and put her hand on her arm and asked.

"_Miss_… "

"Higgs, but everyone calls me Lydia." The young woman said timidly.

"Miss Lydia, do you know that man?" Emma asked gently.

Lydia nodded without meeting Emma's eyes.

"How could he do that to you? That was utterly inappropriate!"

"His estate buys a lot of produces from our farm throughout the year… and when he comes to the fair… he comes by here very often…" The fear in her voice was still audible.

"Just because he buys from your farm does not give him the right to treat you like this! You must not let him do this to you again, Miss Lydia!"

"I thank you for your kindness, _Mr_…" Lydia said shyly, staring at the hand that was on her arm.

Suddenly Emma realized she was seen as a man by Lydia, she dropped her hand from her arm immediately.

"I'm so very sorry!" Embarrassed by her own 'impropriety', Emma apologized and then introduced herself, "I'm Ian Hamley." She took a bow, and Lydia returned with a curtsy.

"Thank you Mr. Hamley, I'm obliged for your kindness and the trouble that you had gone through for me!"

"It is no trouble at all, Miss Lydia. I just hope that man won't come bothering you again."

Lydia sighed but did not answer. From her countenance, Emma knew well that the man would come back again, and dreaded of what he might do next time.

In the hopes of cheering the young woman a little, Emma smiled brightly, "I am looking for apples from the Donwell orchard; do you happen to have any Donwell apples?"

"Oh! I'm very sorry, Mr. Hamley! Donwell apples are the best tasting and most popular, they were sold out long before we even came to the fair… would you like to try some of the local Kingston apples?"

Emma was very proud of the produces from Donwell and was glad to hear that their apples had been sold out. "Well, thank you for your recommendation. I would try couple of the local Kingston apples then."

Lydia picked two of the reddest, largest and best looking apples for Emma. After paying for the apples, Emma thought it was time to take leave.

"I think I better let you get back to the apples and peaches before they run away again!" Even in her gentlemanly voice, Emma said it with her usual charm and ease.

Lydia smiled and curtsied, "Thank you, Mr. Hamley!"

Emma bowed, "Good-day, Miss Lydia!"

* * *

Although it had been quite some time after Emma parted from Lydia, it was still difficult for her to forget what happened to the young woman: she had never seen this kind of vulgarity before her entire life. And what bothered her even more was the fact that the man was very well-dressed and supposed to be a gentleman – how could a gentleman commit such an unforgivable act to a helpless young woman? So unlike what a gentleman should be! She was deeply troubled by what she witnessed, and felt that she might distract herself by continuing to other parts of the fair.

She walked pass many markets, saw many interesting things, things that she never even knew existed. After she walked pass the poultry market and as she was heading to the dairy, butter and cheese market, her attention was caught again - this time by a group of children, who appeared to have come with their farmer-parents to help with their family affairs, but were idle at the moment and playing hopscotch by the side of the road.

With five nieces and nephews, Emma had always had a tender heart for children. She stood from afar to watch the children play in delight. However, her curiosity was piqued when she saw two children, a boy holding the hand of a little girl, walking away from the group of children, seemingly refused the chance to play with them. The two children looked dejected and disappointed and Emma could not help but want to know what happened. She decided to walk close to them.

Looking downcast, the boy was kicking hard at the dirt and stones on the side of the road as he and the little girl walked farther and farther away from the other children. Emma caught up with them and said in a kind gentleman voice from behind them.

"If you keep kicking like this, I think you'll soon kick a hole into your shoe!"

The boy was startled and he stopped to look behind to see who was speaking to him.

"Oh!" That was all he said.

Emma walked around to stand in front of them, she knelt down to look them in the eyes and speak to them. "May I ask what your name is?"

"Humph… My name is Adam."

"Oh! I like that name very much!" Emma said to the boy and then turned to the little girl. "And what is _your_ name?"

"My name is Anna."

"Oh! I like that name very much, too! I know a little Anna back at home and she is only an infant, but she is just as pretty as you are! I'm very happy to meet both of you, and my name is Ian."

Emma thought the two children were absolutely delightful and offered them the two beautiful apples that she had bought from Lydia. The two children were hesitant at first, but eventually took the apples from her.

Wondering why they were refused by the other children, Emma asked, "I saw you came from that group of children," Glancing over at those who were playing hopscotch, "why aren't you playing with them?"

Adam looked down at his shoes and said, "They wouldn't let us play with them!"

"And why wouldn't they let you play with them?"

"They said only children with mamas could play with them…"

Emma's heart sank when she heard the reason why they were refused.

"May I ask where your mother is?" She asked tenderly.

"Mama died few months ago!" Her heart sank even deeper when she heard the children had lost their mother. She could almost see the tears in Adam's eyes.

"Adam and Anna… how old are you?"

"I'm seven and Anna is almost five."

"Let me tell you something…" Emma gently placed her hands on the arms of the two children. "My mother died when I was at Anna's age… I also felt very sad, but things got better as I got older."

Both children were looking at Emma intently.

"And let me tell you more… when I was little, my mother used to tell me that I had a light in my heart, the light was bright when I was happy, and dim when I was sad, but it didn't have to stay dim for long – she told me that I could make my light bright again by thinking or doing things that made me happy!"

"Do we have lights in our hearts?" Little Anna asked.

"Of course, everybody has a light in our hearts, that's what my mother told me!" She assured the children and smiled tenderly at them. "So tell me - is the light in your heart bright or dim right at this moment?"

Adam was thoughtful, and then he said quietly, "It's dim…"

"Hmm… but remember what my mother said - we could make the light bright again! Do you want to make your light bright again?"

Adam and Anna both nodded expectantly.

"Then - tell me one thing that would make you happy."

Adam reached into his bag and took out a book. "Mama used to sing the songs from this book to us all the time…" He handed the book to Emma.

"Hmm… 'Divine Songs' by Isaac Watts. It's a wonderful book! My mother and my governess used to sing and read from this book to me and my sister all the time, too!"

"This was Mama's favorite book!" Little Anna added.

"Did your mother have a favorite song from this book?" Emma asked and Adam turned to the page where the song was.

Emma rose from her knees, took the children by their hands and sat down on a nearby bench as she sang their mother's favorite song to them.

_How doth the little busy bee  
__Improve each shinning hour,  
__And gather honey all the day  
__From every opening flower!_

_How skillfully she builds her cell!  
__How neat she spreads the wax!  
__And labours hard to store it well  
__With the sweet food she makes._

_In works of labour of of skill  
__I would be busy too:  
__For Satan finds some mischief still  
__For idle hands to do._

_In books, or work, or healthful play  
__Let my first years be past,  
__That I may give for every day  
__Some good account at last._

For almost an entire hour, Emma sang and read from the book to Adam and Anna one song after another. And at the two children's request, all three of them played hopscotch together for a long time. Together, they sang, they played, they smiled, and they laughed for a good portion of the afternoon. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eyes she saw a man from a distance waving hard at the two children and caught Adam's eyes.

"Oh, it's Papa! It must be time to go… come, Anna, we need to go!" Adam quickly grabbed hold of little Anna's hand and began to head over to his Papa's direction. But before they ran off, he turned to Emma and asked.

"Will you be here tomorrow, Ian?"

Emma smiled and nodded, "Yes, I will be here tomorrow and I hope I'll see you and Anna again!"

Adam smiled, turned around, then turned back again and said with his bright eyes looking at Emma's, "I think the light in my heart is brighter now!" The two children turned around and finally ran off.

Watching Adam and Anna disappearing from her sight, Emma's heart was warm and content. It pained her to think how sad the children must have felt, for she knew what it was like to be without a mother. Even though no one and nothing could ever bring back or replace their mother, she was glad that she had brought the two children, even for a very short time, out of their sadness and given them a little bit of joy and laughter.

* * *

It was well into the afternoon, Emma knew she must return to the inn before George did, but she wanted to visit the cheese market before she left. She hurried her strides and reached the market in a short moment.

The cheese market was just as interesting as all the other markets. There was an amazing variety of cheeses from local and nearby farms; some were even imported from other countries. As Emma was admiring the many different kinds of cheeses at one booth, she noticed two gentlemen stopped in front of the same booth started to converse.

"I have gone around all the booths, but I think this one has the best selection… if you know what I _mean_!" The two gentlemen laughed in a very strange way.

"Oh! Look at the curve of this one, simply _marvelous_… makes me want to _touch_!"

"Wait, but look at the other one… what do you think the age of the other one? Personally I think the younger the better, I heard that they are more _delicious_ when they are young…"

Being only couple yards away from the two gentlemen, Emma could not help to overhear what they were saying. She was amused by what she just heard and thought to herself, "Shouldn't cheese taste better as they aged properly? Why would it be the younger the better?" Then she heard the other man answered.

"Oh… I agree with you, the younger the better, I think she cannot be more than sixteen or seventeen!"

"_SHE_!" Emma immediately took her gaze off the cheeses and looked up to see what the two men were really speaking of, and to her greatest astonishment, their eyes were not on the cheeses, but on the two young girls tending the cheese booth!

Emma was absolutely disgusted, indignant, and furious!

Perhaps it was the gentleman clothing that caused her to forget herself and think she was truly a gentleman wanting to protect the young and the weak, or perhaps it was the repulsive and vulgar nature of the conversation from the two men that had completely turned her into someone she could not control - the rage inside Emma was overpowering her! Her hands were clutched into furious fists, her breathes were rapid and shallow, and her heart was beating like an out-of-control beast; with fierce and soul-piercing eyes, she walked up to the two men, like a lion walked up to its prey, and spoke to them in her roaring voice.

"You two _despicable_ scoundrels – do you have no _shame_? You _disgust_ me… the two girls that you were speaking of… they are _only_ _girls_! Barely sixteen or seventeen years of age… How could you… How _could_ you speak of them in such disgusting manner?"

Emma took a deep breath and continued to roar at them, "You dress in your fineries and put on the air of gentility and think that you are gentlemen? - You are _nothing_ but disgusting _rats_! If I hear you speak of young girls or women like this again, you'll be regretting for the rest of your _life_!"

The two men were frightened by Emma's threat and ran off immediately, literally tripping over each another, leaving Emma standing there catching her breaths by herself.

It took several moments for Emma's heart to finally beating at normal rate again; and when she had calmed down, she could not believe what she just did, and could not understand what gave her the courage to speak to those two men the way she did - but she was very glad that she did it!

As she turned around to take leave, she was startled by an older gentleman standing behind her with a warm smile.

"I'm sorry that I startled you!" The older gentleman apologized.

"Oh! That was all right." Emma said.

"Are you new to the Kingston fair? I don't remember ever seeing you before." The older gentleman was friendly.

Just now, Emma remembered what she had told Betty about not speaking to anyone at the fair – but she had already spoken to Lydia, the two children as well as three scoundrels, she thought she might well banish the whole notion and speak to this seemingly kind gentleman. "Yes, this is my first time at Kingston."

"I'm Mr. Dickenson." He held out his hand for Emma.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Dickenson! My name is Ian Hamley." Emma was taken by the gesture of Mr. Dickenson, for she was used to gentlemen taking bows rather than shaking hands. Nonetheless she shook his hand to show her friendliness.

"What you did was very courageous, Mr. Hamley!" Mr. Dickenson smiled and said sincerely.

She shook her head with a soft smile and said, "Oh no! I did what any gentleman would have done… I just could not believe any man could be… could be… so despicable!"

"I agree with you that those men were despicable, but I cannot agree with you that _any_ gentleman would have done what you did today, Mr. Hamley – for not only I witnessed what you just did to those two men, I saw how you stood up for Lydia against that scoundrel at the apple-stand, and I also saw how kind you were to the two little children!"

"How… how could you have seen all that, Mr. Dickenson?" Emma was bewildered, and then raising her eyebrows she said jokingly, "Were you following me all day?" She laughed.

Mr. Dickenson also laughed, "Not only you have courage, you also have a good sense of humor! But the truth is I was indeed following you today."

"But why?" Emma was curious.

"Well, Mr. Hamley, this old man here has a very particular habit – you see, I love meeting courageous and righteous men. And knowing how rare it is to come across such a man, when I see someone does something courageous, I'd follow him to observe if the good deed is merely a random act of kindness, or it's something greater. I did the right thing in following you today, and now I know you are indeed what I thought you were!"

Emma was intrigued by Mr. Dickenson's 'habit' and thought what an interesting gentleman he was. Then she said respectfully, "Well, Mr. Dickenson, even though I would never think of myself courageous or righteous, I think it would be rude to contradict a kind gentleman as yourself, so I thank you for your kind words and it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Mr. Dickenson laughed his hearty laughs, "I'm glad you're willing to accept my compliment, Mr. Hamley! Now, may I ask what brought you to the Kingston Fair?"

"Hum… My father sent me here to learn things about farming… and… land improvements." Emma thought she was being truthful with her reasons, except the fact that her father did not send her!

"But, if you're here to learn, do you have a mentor? Is your father with you?"

"Hum… No… my father could not come because… because… he has a cold!"

"I'm sorry to hear that your father has a cold, Mr. Hamley! Since your father cannot be here to guide you… I have just the perfect mentor for you! I have always the highest esteem for this gentleman. I would love for you to meet him, and I'm sure he'll be very willing to be your mentor while here at Kingston."

Emma never intended to have a mentor, if she ever needed one, she thought, George would be all she needed. She was also afraid that her disguise might be exposed if she spent too much time with anyone. Nonetheless, she appreciated the good intention of Mr. Dickenson and did not want to disappoint him by refusing his kind offer out right.

"That is very kind of you Mr. Dickenson."

"In fact, I think he should be coming this way by now, he might even be somewhere close by…"

Mr. Dickenson started looking around, before long he spotted the very person he was looking for from about twenty yards away and began waving diligently at him.

"Ah! There he is - the person that I am just looking for, Mr. Knightley!"

"_MR_. _KNIGHTLEY_!" Emma's heart almost came out of her mouth along with the words. She was astounded to hear that the mentor Mr. Dickenson was speaking of was her very own George!

"Oh… Do you know Mr. Knightley?" Mr. Dickenson asked.

"Oh! No... no! I had never met Mr. Knightley before… Humph! Mr. Dickenson… Please forgive me, but I just recall that I have something urgent to attend to, I must leave immediately… " Emma was panicking for she saw George was walking toward her and Mr. Dickenson.

"But… Mr. Hamley, I really would like you to meet Mr. Knightley!"

"I'm sure you do, Mr. Dickenson… but I must go… good-day, Mr. Dickenson!"

Before Emma ran off, Mr. Dickenson grabbed her hands and shook them enthusiastically to bid her good-day and wish to see her again the morrow.

In a matter of seconds, Emma had fled the scene and disappeared in the crowds, just then George had walked up to Mr. Dickenson.

"Ah! Mr. Knightley, you have just missed a very amiable young man that I think you would enjoy meeting! In fact, he reminded me of you very much!" Mr. Dickenson exclaimed.

"Is that true, Mr. Dickenson? I had noticed from a distance, that you were shaking a young man's hands with might, I thought you must be very fond of him. It's unfortunate that I had just missed him."

Mr. Dickenson sighed, "It's indeed unfortunate, I was just about to introduce you to him and ask if you'd be kind enough to be his mentor. Perhaps we might see him tomorrow!"

Mr. Dickenson took one look at his watch and said to George, "Well, look at the time! It's getting quite late, we should probably head back to the inn. I can't wait to meet Mrs. Knightley at dinner… that is we are meeting at dinner, or am I mistaken, Mr. Knightley?"

"Absolutely Mr. Dickenson, what do you think if we meet at the inn's dining-room at seven o'clock tonight?"

"That sounds perfect, Mr. Knightley!"


	17. Encountering of a Different Kind

**A/N**: This and the next chapters were written as one chapter, but it was getting way too long so I split it into two. I love Emma and Mr. Knightley as a couple and have often wondered how they would act in the company of others, so I'm taking this opportunity to explore it a bit.

Here's chapter seventeen, I will post eighteen within two or three days.

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Seventeen: Encountering of a Different Kind**_

* * *

With as fast a pace as propriety would allow a gentleman to stride in public, or simply a pace that would not raise too many eyebrows, Emma practically ran all the way from the fairground to the inn. She was thankful that she had escaped George's sighting of her young Mr. Hamley at the fair, but worried that he would be back to the inn soon after her. The mere two blocks distance had felt like ten miles to her, and the ten minutes she took to arrive at the inn like an entire hour. Finally she reached the front gate of the inn and was greeted immediately by Betty.

"Oh! Mrs.… I mean Mr. Hamley, I'm so glad you're come back!" Betty sounded relieved.

"… Betty… how … long… have… you… been… waiting…for… me?" Emma was puffing hard to catch her breaths.

"I've been waiting for you most of the afternoon… I was really worrying about you… Mrs.… I mean, Mr. Hamley! Did Mr. Knightley see you?"

"No!" Emma took another deep breath and said, "_Almost_!"

Betty gasped. Emma's normal breathing resumed.

"Don't worry, Betty, Mr. Knightley didn't see me. But I think he will be back very soon, we must hurry before he comes back!"

Emma and Betty both hurried to George's chamber.

* * *

After Betty had removed the wig and frantically taken off all the pins from Emma's hair, Emma said to her very seriously, "Betty, you must go outside and guard the door, do not let Mr. Knightley come in until I'm all changed and ready to see him."

"But what if Mr. Knightley insists, what should I do?"

"Just think of something… anything… but Mr. Knightley cannot see me like this!"

"All right, Mrs. Knightley!" Hesitantly Betty went out of the chamber.

* * *

Only a short while after Betty stood outside the chamber, George returned.

"Good… afternoon… Mr. … Mr. Knightley." Betty greeted George with a shaky voice.

"Good afternoon, Betty. Are you all right?" George noticed the unusual timidity in Betty.

"I… I'm fine, Mr. Knightley…" Betty answered quietly, looking down at her dress.

"Humph - Is Mrs. Knightley inside?" Puzzled by Betty's countenance, George asked.

"Yes… Mr. Knightley… Mrs. Knightley… she is inside…" Betty moved herself in front of the door to prevent George from reaching the door handle.

George was bewildered by Betty's action. Keeping his patience with her, he asked, "Is there a reason why you're blocking my way to enter into my chamber?"

"Auh… yes… no… yes, Mr. Knightley… hum… Mrs. Knightley… she is changing!"

George was amused, "Since when I cannot be in the same chamber when Mrs. Knightley is changing?"

"Auh… I'm sorry Mr. Knightley… I… I don't know…"

"All right then. Since you don't know, may I enter into my chamber now?"

Betty nodded and moved aside reluctantly.

Right at that moment, Emma opened the door and greeted George with her entrancing smile, "Oh, _George_, you're come back!", then turned to her maid, "Betty, could you please bring my dresses in the dressing-room to launder?"

"Yes! Mrs. Knightley!" Betty immediately excused herself.

"Humph - Emma, is there something I need to know about Betty or _you_? Betty was not about to let me entering into my own chamber because _you_ were changing!" There was a smile on George's face.

Emma looped her hands through George's arm and walked him inside the chamber to sit on the sofa with his back facing the dressing-room, innocently she said, "My dearest George, why do you always assume that I'm up to some mischief when something slightly unusual happens?"

"Ah! I'm glad you admitted something 'unusual' had happened, Emma." Gently poking Emma's nose with his finger tip, George smiled warmly, "And to answer your question – because I know _too_ many of your whims and fancies to _not_ assume you are up to some mischief!"

Right then Emma saw, through the corner of her eye, Betty exiting their chamber with a heap of her gentleman clothing without George noticing any of it, she silently breathed a sigh of relief. Then she turned her head gracefully from left to right and to the left again and asked, "Do you notice anything different with my hair?"

George had always loved Emma's silky tresses and with one long look he noticed that she had done her hair differently but could not tell precisely in what way.

"See, instead of the tight bun that I usually wear, just now I put my hair up with a loose bun, and do you like the antique comb that I bought today?"

"Hum - that is a very lovely comb. And of course you always look beautiful no matter how you wear your hair, my love! But - was that why Betty wouldn't let me come in… so that you could do your hair differently?"

"Ah… huh!" Emma nodded, gazing at him with her bewitching hazel eyes, hoping to convince him and subdue his suspicion.

George returned Emma's gaze with an arched smile, he was not completely convinced, but realized there was not much time before their dinner engagement, so he banished his suspicion and changed the subject.

"Emma, I hope you don't mind I've made a dinner engagement for us with a very dear friend of my father, and a long time friend of mine. He found out that you were here at Kingston and has the greatest desire to meet you!"

Emma was surprised at the news - she had never met any of George's friends outside of Highbury, but excited at the chance to meet the dear friend of her late father-in-law, and her husband's long time friend. "Of course not, George! I would love to meet a dear friend of your father and yours! Who is it, have you spoken of this person to me before?"

"It's Mr. Dickenson. I might not have mentioned his name, but have talked of him to you on many occasions before. He and my father were friends before I was even born. I met him during an agricultural event which my father took me to when I was a young boy. We have been friends ever since, I see him every year in almost all the agricultural fairs. He had heard that I was married and has been meaning to meet you. He was surprised to find out that you're at Kingston and insisted on meeting you tonight!" George could hardly contain his excitement.

All the while when George was explaining his long-standing ties with Mr. Dickenson, Emma was looking every bit attentive, and nodding at all the right places - but secretly sighing, _"Oh dear! Am I being punished for going to the fair without George's consent? What if Mr. Dickenson could recognize me? Argh! All right, stay calm, Emma! Just be your usual self, he can't possibly recognize you!"_

Once George finished, she gathered up a bright smile, "Oh, yes, now I remember! What time are we meeting Mr. Dickenson? Do we have time to change for dinner?"

"Yes, my dear, we are to meet him at the dining-room in half an hour!"

* * *

Mr. Dickenson was already waiting at the entry way when George and Emma came to the dining-room. He walked up to them as soon as he saw the couple approaching.

"Good evening, Mr. Knightley!" The two gentlemen shook their hands warmly.

"Good evening, Mr. Dickenson! May I introduce you, Mrs. Knightley?" George said to Mr. Dickenson, then turning to Emma, "Mrs. Knightley, this is Mr. Dickenson."

"Oh! What a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Knightley!" Mr. Dickenson bowed formally to greet Emma.

"Thank you, Mr. Dickenson, I'm very pleased to meet you!" Emma smiled demurely and curtsied gracefully.

Emma's heart pounded rapidly when she noticed Mr. Dickenson's studying of her person for a moment.

"Mrs. Knightley, I hope you won't mind me being forward – Mr. Knightley had told me so much about you, but he never mentioned to me how beautiful you were. I could only imagine that a fine gentleman like him must have a handsome bride - but you are far more beautiful than I had imagined!" Mr. Dickenson said sincerely.

There was never much vanity in Emma about her beauty, though she was grateful for Mr. Dickenson's compliment, at the moment, she was more thankful by him not recognizing her as a Ian Hamley than anything else.

Feeling immensely relieved, Emma replied with charm and grace, "Thank you, Mr. Dickenson, I'm glad I have your approval on my appearance! And if I may speak for Mr. Knightley – as I know how much he values substance over form, inner beauty is always more important to him than otherwise, it is not surprising to me that he would not speak much of one's outward appearance, Mr. Dickenson!" Glancing over at George with her enchanting smile she added, "Am I right, Mr. Knightley?"

Gazing at his lovely wife, George nodded with a glowing smile.

Completely enchanted by the non-verbal exchanges between the couple, Mr. Dickenson laughed his hearty laugh. "What a charming wife you have, George!" Looking at both George and Emma, "And what a perfect match in every way between the both of you, I'm sure my dear friend, the late Mr. Knightley, would have been very pleased!"

Delighted at Mr. Dickenson's comment on the approval of George's father, the happy couple looked each other in the eyes with the most affectionate smile, enviable to any bystanders.

After their brief and very pleasant exchanges, Mr. Dickenson entreated George and Emma to go into the dinning-room. Right before they took their steps, Emma saw a man walking toward them arm-in-arm with a woman. She almost gasped out loud when she recognized the man as the same man who acted inappropriately toward Lydia earlier in the morning at the apple stand. Trying her best not to show the agitation bursting inside, she kept her gaze at George, but was surprised when the man called out to them.

"Ah! Mr. Knightley and Mr. Dickenson." The man said to the two gentlemen while his eyes lingered on Emma.

"Mr. Morgan." George sounded stiff as he noticed the man's lascivious gaze at Emma.

Not lifting his eyes off of Emma, Mr. Morgan said to George, "Mr. Knightley, I have heard that you had married, is this Mrs. Knightley?" It angered George to see the indecent smile on the man's face, and to think what could be in the mind of this abominable scoundrel!

"Yes, this is Mrs. Knightley." George said dryly, reluctantly he turned to Emma to introduce her to the man. "This is Mr. Morgan."

Many things were racing through Emma's mind at the moment – she noticed, which she had never seen before, the stern expression and stiff countenance on George as soon as he saw the man coming, then she worried if this man would recognize her as the 'gentleman' who interfered his unforgivable conduct to Lydia this morning, and at last, she was surprised to hear the name of the man, and wondered if this person was the husband of the kind lady, Mrs. Morgan, she met this morning, but was uncertain because the woman standing next to him was not the Mrs. Morgan she knew.

Mr. Morgan let go his hands on the woman's arm and took couple steps forward to stand in front of Emma.

"How _lucky_ Mr. Knightley is to have such a _beautiful_ young wife! What a _pleasure_ to meet you, Mrs. Knightley!" Wearing a wicked smile, Mr. Morgan made his gallant bow to Emma and then unexpectedly, he reached his hand out and was about to take Emma's into his.

Instantly, George forwarded a step to stand in front of Mr. Morgan blocking him from Emma, grabbed hold of his hand by the wrist and said in a forbidding voice which Emma had never heard before, "A bow _IS_ enough - Mrs. Knightley does not care for the shaking of a man's hand!"

Taken back by George's unfriendly gesture, Mr. Morgan pried his hand out of George's grip, rubbed his wrist briskly to ease the pain from the strong grip and said with his disdainful attitude, "Well then, don't say this gentleman has no manner!" Then he turned to the woman behind and said, "Come, darling, let us go somewhere else for supper!" And they walked away.

"And that scoundrel called himself a gentleman!" Exasperated, Mr. Dickenson, shaking his head, had witnessed the whole scene and was appalled by the offensive conduct of that man.

As Emma noticed George's stiff countenance had not changed, and the anger in his eyes not subsided, she tenderly placed her hands on his arm, squeezed it gently, smiled lovingly at him, and looked him in the eyes to force him to smile. She was relieved only after a very short moment George's discomposure faded and his usual countenance returned, and gracefully took his arm to enter into the dining-room along with Mr. Dickenson.


	18. Pleasant Company & What It Brought About

**A/N**: Thank you for your review on Chapter Seventeen! They always make my day and give me the motivation to continue with the story! :-)

The last chapter ended with the unpleasant encountering with the scoundrel Mr. Morgan - there's no scoundrel in this chapter, it is a very light and pleasant, even a sweet (I think) chapter. As I mentioned in the A/N last time, I wanted to explore how Emma and George acted in front of other people, and since Mr. Dickenson is such a good friend, I could only imagine their dinner should go very well. Hope you like this chapter.

**Warning: **If fluff is not to your taste, you may not like the second half of this chapter, because it's quite fluffy! :D However, the fluff is there for a reason and I'll explain at the end of the chapter.

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Eighteen: Pleasant Company and What It Brought About**_

* * *

At the request of Mr. Dickenson, the three guests were seated at a quiet corner in the dining-room, most suitable for lighthearted chatters and easy conversations. Judging from the unappetizing odor from the kitchen immediately underneath her chamber the previous night, Emma had not the slightest confidence in the skill of the inn's cook, but to her pleasant surprise, supper was quite delicious. And the conversations with Mr. Dickenson were even more enjoyable than she had anticipated – and for most of the evening she had forgotten her fear of Mr. Dickenson exposing her disguise, until now!

"Ah! Mrs. Knightley, did Mr. Knightley tell you I have made an acquaintance with a very amiable young man today?" Mr. Dickenson suddenly asked.

"Auh… no…" Emma's voice suddenly squeaked, her heart beats thickened - her fear renewed! She cleared her throat and continued with a smile, "Mr. Knightley has not a chance to mention as such to me. I would love to hear about this young man!" But immediately she reproached herself, "_G__oodness me!_ _Why did I say that? What was I thinking, asking to hear about the young man? Have I lost my mind?"_

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Dickenson, I only knew that you had met this young gentleman at the fair today, and saw you shaking his hand very fondly, I would love to learn more about this young man as well." George concurred.

So, Mr. Dickenson went into detail of how he saw the young Mr. Hamley rescuing Lydia from the scoundrel Morgan, how kind he was to the two little children, and how he scared the two despicable men away from the cheese booth. All the while, Emma was listening with barely half a heart, and left the other half silently begging that Mr. Dickenson would not recognize her as the very 'gentleman' that he was speaking of.

"I'm impressed by the charitable acts of this young gentleman, Mr. Dickenson. It is not often to meet a person who's willing to extend a helping hand to those in need, now I understand why you think him amiable and why you are so fond of this gentleman." George said thoughtfully.

"In fact, Mr. Knightley, all the while when I was observing the young man, I was thinking how much he reminded me of you! I have always known you a kind and charitable gentleman, both in character and in deeds. It's such a pleasure to make acquaintance of not one, but two such exceptionable men! "

Then turning to Emma, Mr. Dickenson asked, "And what do you think of this young gentleman, Mrs. Knightley? Don't you think the kindness and courage that this young gentleman displayed are similar to Mr. Knightley's?"

For her entire life, Emma had had a long-standing admiration for George's character. Her admiration, rooted not from their matrimony or her love for him, but her witnessing how he lived his life as long as she had known him. She might not have expressed it openly before their love for each other was revealed, and she might even have willfully disregarded it to make known to him that he had no authority over her when she was much younger; but her regard for him, for his superior character and kindness, was always incomparable that no other beings had ever come close to the esteem he held in her heart.

Emma was not hesitant to express her true feelings for George in front of Mr. Dickenson, and she spoke with sincerity, "Mr. Dickenson, I must agree with you on your point of Mr. Knightley being kind and charitable - both in character and in deeds - For all my life I have witnessed how he treats his servants, tenants, laborers, friends, and neighbors with generosity and kindness; how he is always ready to set aside his own needs and act upon the needs of the poor, the orphaned and the widowed." Gazing lovingly at George, she continued, "I beg your pardon for my partiality Mr. Dickenson, but I do not know of a truer, kinder, and a more generous gentleman in my life than my very own husband!"

Feeling aglow in her being, a pause came onto Emma as a sudden fear crept into her heart - the fear of Mr. Dickenson seeing the resemblance between her and Mr. Hamley if she went on addressing her opinion of the young gentleman.

Emma was now determined to change the subject. Lifting a playful eyebrow, she said in a much lighter tone, "However, as to the merits of this young gentleman… I think it'd serve me and Mr. Knightley well to withhold my opinion until I meet and get to know him in person – for it was only a little more than a year ago when Mr. Knightley and I had _quite_ a disagreement over the merits of another young gentleman whom we had not met since he was a little boy!"

Being completely aware of what Emma was speaking of, George looked down at his dinner plate and let out a quiet laugh before Mr. Dickenson spoke.

"Oh! A disagreement over a young gentleman between two lovers – that ought to be interesting! Mr. Knightley, would you be so kind to elaborate for this old man?" Mr. Dickenson always enjoyed the teasing of his friend George.

With love and affection, and a tint of good-natured exasperation, George looked Emma in the eye as to tell her that she had successfully put him into a quandary of confessing his uncharacteristic folly from more than a year ago!

"Oh well! If you must insist…" George's eyes twinkled, with a sheepish smile he began, "The disagreement that Mrs. Knightley, then Miss Woodhouse, and I had was mostly rooted on my _bias_ opinion - I admit - on the young gentleman." He gave a quick glare at Emma in protest, "Although not entirely without ground I must say!" Then turning back to Mr. Dickenson, " I took a dislike of the gentleman months before even meeting him – as you could probably surmise, Mr. Dickenson – it was out of jealously of a potential rival for Miss Woodhouse' affection!"

Taking a deep breath, George pleaded, smilingly however, "There - I confessed my folly! I think it is better that we talk of something else now."

Mr. Dickenson laughed heartily; and Emma, suppressing her laughs, smiled triumphantly at her George!

After his hearty laughed subsided, Mr. Dickenson spoke to Emma in a more serious tone, "Mrs. Knightley, as a long-time friend of Mr. Knightley, please allow me to speak in my friend's defense – For I have known him since he was a young lad, and seen the many ladies that he had refused, I had thought that George would never trust his affection to any woman - So I am not surprised if he was _uncharacteristically _jealous over a potential rival for the affection of the lovely Miss Woodhouse!"

"_Many ladies!"_ Apparently only two words in Mr. Dickenson sentence had caught Emma's attention. "Mr. Knightley had never told me there were _many ladies_, Mr. Dickenson!" Emma's curiosity was piqued.

George cleared his throat to speak up in a hurry, "I hardly think this is worthy of our conversation, Mr. Dickenson. What do you think of the weather in Kingston? It seems to me it is unseasonably warm this spring in Kingston, don't you think?"

Both Mr. Dickenson and Emma took one look at George, ignored him, and returned to their conversation.

"Mr. Dickenson, as you know, Highbury is a quiet countryside, there weren't _many ladies _in Mr. Knightley's social circle, I believe you must be speaking of _ladies_ outside of Highbury." Emma asked in her seriousness.

Helplessly, George began to listen to the exchanges between his long-time friend and his beloved wife!

"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Knightley! As you know, I meet Mr. Knightley every year in most of the agricultural events. Over the years, we have made acquaintances with many local landowners, who had invited us to their homes and estates many a time. Many of them have the best intention to discuss farming and land improvement with us… but there were some… some who had only one object in mind…" Mr. Dickenson peeked at George, who was shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the moment, and then looked back at Emma with a smile.

"Yes? What was it, Mr. Dickenson?" Emma pleaded earnestly.

"Some had only one object in mind: To bring about an attachment between their daughters and the very handsome and eligible bachelor of a very large estate!"

By now the color on George's face was turning fast into deep red, he looked to the right, looked to the left, trying his best not to be stirred by the conversation at hand, but of no avail!

Emma furrowed her brows and curiously she asked, "But what happened? I mean obviously they never succeeded, but did anything ever happen between the _bachelor_ and the ladies?"

George could not help but gave Emma a grim look and said, "May I remind you, Mrs. Knightley, that the _bachelor_ you are speaking of is your own _husband_! Must you have such interest to know what happened between him and the ladies?"

Emma felt so at ease in front of Mr. Dickenson that she unconsciously took George's hand into hers and drew it close to her heart affectionately and even called him by his Christian name when she said, "But, we are _married,_ George! I'm not afraid to know what happened…" Turning back to Mr. Dickenson, "Please do tell, Mr. Dickenson!"

"Oh well! Let me tell you what had happened Mrs. Knightley – in all those occasions, _nothing_ ever happened between the bachelor and the ladies!"

"_Nothing?_" Emma was surprised.

"To be truthful Mrs. Knightley, I had the same reaction! As most of those ladies were quite attractive and well matched with the bachelor in rank and situations, I could not help but ask the bachelor why he would refuse all those seemingly agreeable offers."

"What did he say, Mr. Dickenson? What did the bachelor say?" Emma asked pleadingly.

"Well, after many years of probing, and this old man do have an unbelievable patience with this bachelor – he finally told me that his affection was engaged."

"_Engaged_?" Emma was astonished! Searching unsuccessfully in her memory for any noticeable attachment between her George and other women in the past, Emma asked urgently, "Did you ever find out to whom the bachelor's affection was engaged to? I can't think of anyone I know or the slightest sign of such engagement!"

George continued to keep his silence, though uncomfortable as he was having his wife and friend speaking of his 'engaged affection', he was greatly amused by the look of desperation on Emma's face.

Mr. Dickenson trying to keep his face straight and serious began to reveal, "Yes, I did find out. After much probing, the bachelor finally gave in and confessed that his affection was engaged to someone who had a long-time connection to his family, who was witty, clever and lively – but his only regret was that she was only thirteen years of age, with too many whims and fancies and an inflated ego that probably would grow her head too big for her own good!"

Mr. Dickenson could no longer suppress his hearty laugh.

George looked down at his dinner plate and began chuckling hysterically.

Emma narrowed her eyes and repeated to herself, _"… long time family connection… only thirteen… too many whims and fancies… inflated ego... too big for her own good!"_ Her eyes flung wide open!

"Hah!" She gave a sound slap on George's arm, wrinkled her nose and said exasperatingly, "You used me as an excuse to turn down the offers from those ladies!"

But only seconds into her compliant, Emma could not help but see the humor in this revelation - she twitched her mouth and started laughing with George and Mr. Dickenson.

* * *

After an extremely agreeable dinner, the three companies bade each other a pleasant night and parted to retire to their chambers. George and Emma resumed their favorite nightly ritual before retiring to bed – sitting by the fire for an intimate conversation. With the weather being quite warm, they lit several candles and placed them on the mantel in place of an oppressive fire in the fireplace.

George had noticed Emma's unusual quietness after dinner and asked.

"My dearest Emma, you've been quiet since we parted with Mr. Dickenson. Is there something bothering you? Did you not enjoy our time with Mr. Dickenson?"

Emma raised her hand to touch George's cheek gently and smiled, "Yes, George, I had the most wonderful time with Mr. Dickenson!"

"Then, what is the matter? I could tell something is in your mind."

Indeed many things were in Emma's mind this evening. Life at Highbury was no doubt much simpler compared to what she had experienced today at the fair - and it made her uncomfortable that she could not speak to her best friend and confidant, her George, about any of it! Since they were married, they had been honest with each other with everything; nothing, not even the minutest of happenings escaped their nightly conversation - she hated having to conceal something from him, but yet, she already started it and must suffer until it was over.

Hoping that one day in the near future, when they were back at Hartfield recalling the time they spent at Kingston, she would reveal what had really transpired during her stay at the town, she tried to focus on things that she could talk with George now.

"Hmm… I was thinking how angry you looked during our encountering with Mr. Morgan!"

"Hmm… I see." George took a long sigh and looked thoughtful.

"I had never seen you so angry before…" Emma leaned over to rest her head on George's chest.

"That was because we were never put in such situation before, Emma!" He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head, and gently stroking her silky hair. "Remember what I said at Hartfield? I had said only heavens knew how I would react when I saw the look on those men looking at my beautiful wife!"

"Hum, hum… I suppose we know now!" She sat up to smile at him, gently smoothed his hair with her hands before sliding it down to rub his neck to release the tension brought forth from this particular subject. "I agree with Mr. Dickenson that Mr. Morgan is a scoundrel… but promise me that you won't get so angry if this happens again… I don't like seeing you upset like that!"

"Yes, my dear, I promise you that I will handle my emotion better next time… but I still don't like men looking at you that way, and I think I have the right to dislike it!"

"You know, George, you sounded like a little boy just now!" She laughed teasingly, "But I'll grand you the right, my _husband dearest_!" Then she pressed a tender kiss on his cheek.

"And now… I need to know something…" Emma lifted her brows with a quizzical smile.

"Remember you once told me that you were in love with me ever since I was thirteen at least? And tonight at dinner, Mr. Dickenson said that the _bachelor_" looking mischievously into George's eyes "turned down the offers of those ladies because his affection was engaged to the thirteen year old with a long-time family connection?"

George was nodding with an arched smile.

"Hum… Were you really in love with me since I was thirteen?" Emma asked tentatively.

"Ah! I see you've been thinking about that! Hum – what do you think? Do you think I was in love with you when you were only thirteen, and that my affection was attached to you then?" His arched smile still there, patiently waiting for Emma to reply, amused by the ruminative expression on her beautiful face.

"Well… I was still only a girl when I was thirteen… for a grown man to be in love with a girl does not sound likely… so… no, you were only joking, were you not?"

His arched smile now turned into a bright one, "Let me put it this way, my most beloved Emma – I was honest when I told Mr. Dickenson that my affection was engaged to the thirteen year old girl, but it wasn't the kind of affection from a man to a woman – I had always loved you since you were a little girl, I was fascinated by your quick wit and infinite cleverness; spending time with you always brightened up my day no matter how bad things went. You had always been the friend that I wanted to spend time with, and needless to say I had been very attached to you since you were thirteen at least."

He took her hands into his, "But my affection for you then was one that was from an adult to a child, I wanted to see you grow, to see you put your wit and cleverness in good use, I thought of you very often, wondering what I could do to bring out the best in you, with no other impure intention or thoughts - but you didn't stay a child forever, Emma! You fascinated me as a child with your clever and whimsical mind, but you completely captured me with your beauty, your open temper, and your kind-loving heart to those you loved as a grown woman – even though I was not aware of my own heart until last year, I know I had fallen deeply in love with you once you were no longer a child!"

George looked Emma in the eye and asked, "So, did that answer your question, my love?"

"_Yes_…" Emma smiled and then looked down.

"Humph! You don't sound convinced…" He gently lifted up her chin with his hand to study her face, "What else is in your mind, my dearest Emma?"

Emma kept her silence and would not look him in the eye.

George's eyes twinkled, "Let me guess…you wanted to know about those _ladies_, don't you?"

Emma blushed.

"But I thought you were not afraid to hear about them, didn't you say that during dinner?" He could not help but tease her a little.

"I know… I deserved it! But as you had said before, I could be a _little_ possessive at times, who could blame a wife for being jealous of her husband's old affairs!"

"Old affairs? There were never any old affairs, my dear!" George looked serious.

"But why? Mr. Dickenson said those ladies were attractive and they all came from good families, weren't you at least a little interested?" Emma was serious as well.

"Just because someone was attractive and came from a good family didn't mean that I would fall in love with the person; and I know you are going to ask me why …"

Emma finally smiled.

"Remember I told you during our Seaside holiday, I had wanted to be just like my father to be the Master of Donwell Abbey?" Emma nodded silently and George continued, "But my father had much more influence on me than just my desire to be the Donwell Master."

George sat up straight and looked into Emma's eyes, "The few days before my father's passing, when he was very ill on his deathbed, I was by his bedside most of those days – and I was very thankful for it. I had always looked up to my father and felt very close to him, but those few days had brought us even closer. He didn't have much strength left, but with the little he had left, he had spoken many personal matters with me. Though my father was not used to talk of his affection openly in front of me or John, during those few days he had talked of his love for my mother very often. He wanted me to know how much he loved my mother, and how much he wished me and John to have the same kind of love with our future spouses. He told me that when he first fell in love with my mother, he was first taken by her kind heart and intelligent mind before he even noticed her beauty. Many times he reminded me that a woman's beauty would fade away but her mind and kind heart would only grow wiser and kinder as time passed. I would never forget what he told me, and what he told me had become the paramount of what I looked for in my future wife."

"And you never met such a woman during all those years?"

"I had met many attractive women in many places and occasions. Some of them did strike me as both pretty and intelligent and I enjoyed my conversations with them, but that was all, nothing ever grew into anything more, nor had I the desire to grow it into anything else. I had always believed that I would know when the right woman came along, and there was no need to look for a wife deliberately. Strange as it might sound, I was happy and content with being the uncle of John's children, I enjoyed the domesticity with his family whenever I visited them in London; and when I was back in Donwell, I was just as happy and content of being the neighbor of you and your father, I never thought that I was missing anything without a family of my own."

"And the right woman _never _came along and that's _why _you were a confirmed bachelor!" Lifting a playful finger, Emma poked his chest softly and giggled.

"_Yes_, that was until one day when I realized the _girl_ next door had grown up to be the kind-hearted intelligent beautiful woman that I had always wanted in a wife!" George pulled Emma into his embrace and spoke softly into her ear, "I couldn't wait to relinquish my bachelorhood forever and asked her to be mine!"

Emma blushed at George's declaration, she laid her head in the crook of his neck and said contentedly, "And they live happily ever after!"

And the blissfully happy couple burst into their jovial laughter!

* * *

**A/N**: Here's my reasons for the fluff...

_"...by dint of fancying so many errors, have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at least." _Mr. Knightley - I have seen so many discussion on this topic and most people agree that Mr. Knightley was only kidding when he said it, and I tend to agree. I took the chance in this chapter to give it a little background story.

Being obsessed with the couple, I can never imagine them being with any one else, and for the same reason I like to believe that Emma was Mr. Knightley's one and only love in his life, and that's basically what he told Emma in this chapter!

Thank you for reading! Mrs. Morgan will make her significant appearance in the next chapter. :-)


	19. Different Worlds

**A/N**: Thank you for leaving your comments for the last chapter! As always, I truly appreciate hearing what you think! :-) Here's chapter Nineteen.

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Nineteen: Different Worlds**_

* * *

The next morning, when Emma was about to see George off to the fair at the inn's foyer, she saw Mrs. Morgan at the front-desk, just finishing her conversation with the innkeeper. She excused herself from George and walked up to Mrs. Morgan.

"Good morning, Mrs. Morgan!" Emma said warmly, with her radiant smile.

Mrs. Morgan turned around and was delighted to see Emma, "Good morning, Mrs. Knightley! How nice to see you again, I have been thinking about you!" She smiled warmly at Emma, "I was settling the account with the innkeeper for your chamber – since you no longer needed the chamber, I hope it is all right with you that I take it over."

"Of course, Mrs. Morgan, but you need not settle it on my account…"

Kindly, Mrs. Morgan interrupted Emma, "But I do, Mrs. Knightley – for you were so kind to me yesterday, it would have been so difficult had I not have your chamber to take my rest! This is the only way I could repay your kindness!" Mrs. Morgan looked like she would not be dissuaded of her plan.

Emma knew it would be of no use trying to persuade Mrs. Morgan out of her good intention, "I could tell that you will not let me refuse you, Mrs. Morgan – now it's my turn to thank you for your generosity!" The two ladies smiled graciously at each other.

"Is that Mr. Knightley who's standing there?" Mrs. Morgan noticed that George had been smiling and watching Emma the whole time during their conversation.

"Oh, yes!" Emma walked over to George and brought him over to meet Mrs. Morgan.

"Mrs. Morgan, this is Mr. Knightley!" Turning to George, Emma said, "And Mr. Knightley, this is Mrs. Morgan!" Emma was proud to present her George to her new acquaintance.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Knightley!" Mrs. Morgan curtsied gracefully.

"It's my pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Morgan." George smiled and took a formal bow to greet the lady.

"Mrs. Morgan, were you able to reunite with your husband yesterday? I didn't get to see Mr. Knightley the night before until very late into the evening!" Emma asked brightly.

"Yes, I did." Mrs. Morgan replied plainly.

Noticing the rueful smile on Mrs. Morgan's face, Emma immediately recalled the Mr. Morgan and the woman in his arm at the entry way of the dining-room from the previous night, wondering: Could this kind lady really be the wife of that despicable man?

George had also noticed the uneasy expression on Mrs. Morgan's face and thought to himself this must be the wife of the Mr. Morgan whom no one respected. The scene of that man trying to take Emma's hand was still agitating him inside; nonetheless, his heart went out to this lady with the unfaithful husband.

"Mrs. Morgan, would you mind if I call on you at your chamber later this morning? Mr. Knightley will be at the fair and I'm new to Kingston, it would be really nice to have a companion to spend a little time with!" Emma asked sincerely.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mrs. Knightley, I'm staying in my chamber most of the day; it would indeed be very nice to have someone to talk to!"

After Emma sent George off to the fair, she told Betty to fetch her gentleman items and wait for her in their chamber while she went to visit Mrs. Morgan.

* * *

Sitting on the sofa in Mrs. Morgan's chamber, Mrs. Morgan spoke cordially to Emma.

"It's so kind of you to call on me, Mrs. Knightley! I know I could have ventured out to the shore, but the purpose of my visit at Kingston is not of pleasure, I'm very grateful to have your company this morning."

"_Not of pleasure!" _Emma thought to herself. She now ruled out her initial conjecture on the purpose of Mrs. Morgan's visit to Kingston – not a surprise visit to her husband as hers to George. Then, why was she here?

Since Emma had witnessed the vulgar conduct of Mr. Morgan toward Lydia, and the repulsive act to herself in front of George, her curiosity was no doubt piqued, but more importantly, she felt sorry for this kind lady and wanted to understand her situation and might even help her if it was all possible. She decided to be open with Mrs. Morgan and speak to her about the Mr. Morgan she encountered.

"Mrs. Morgan," Emma proceeded carefully, "I met a Mr. Morgan last night at the dining-room…"

"Humph - I dare say the Mr. Morgan that you met had a woman in his arm?" Mrs. Morgan said calmly.

Emma nodded, not lifting her eyes off of Mrs. Morgan's face.

"And you must be wondering if that Mr. Morgan is my husband." Mrs. Morgan sounded indifferent.

Emma nodded cautiously.

"Yes, Mrs. Knightley, he is my husband. And you must be feeling sorry for me?" There was a soft smile on Mrs. Morgan's face.

Emma nodded again, but was surprised by the cool composure of Mrs. Morgan.

"You're very kind, Mrs. Knightley, for caring enough of me to inquire after it."

"I hope you don't think me intruding, Mrs. Morgan! You are such a kind lady, and I thought you might need a woman to talk to or to express your feelings… which might make you feel better." Emma spoke earnestly.

"You're not intruding at all, Mrs. Knightley. I could tell when someone truly care about my feelings or simply trying to pry. And over the years I have met many who only wanted to pry. I really appreciate your sincerity, Mrs. Knightley!"

"_Over the years_! So you have known for some time?"

Mrs. Morgan took a deep breath. "Yes, my husband has had mistresses for many years; he just does not have one in our home town. But every where he travels, there is one waiting for him."

"But how do you bear it, Mrs. Morgan?" Emma was both confused and saddened.

"There isn't any woman who could bear her husband having a mistress, is there?" Mrs. Morgan asked calmly.

Emma shook her head.

"When you first find out, it feels like a knife has cut open your heart a thousand times." Mrs. Morgan's gaze was distant. "And you wonder how it happens, why it happens to you. You blame yourself for not being good enough, for not pretty enough, or not sensual enough to keep him happy… then you start hating yourself, hating everyone around you, hating him, but begging him to love you again all at the same time!"

Tears began welling up in Emma's eyes.

"Please don't be sad, Mrs. Knightley! Those days were behind me longtime ago. After you had done everything, begged a hundred times, you simply begin to let go: let go of your hopes, your feelings, your sadness. His coming and going no longer make a difference, you don't rejoice because he's with you, your tears won't fall because he's with someone else. You only hang on to the things that are truly important to you, and you give all of you to those things."

"What are those things to you, Mrs. Morgan?"

"My children – my two sons and my daughter!" Mrs. Morgan finally broke her coldness and smiled.

"Do you children know?"

"Would a mother tell their children that their father no longer loves their mother and have mistresses in other places? Would you tell your children that their father is away with another woman and throw them into a world of complete chaos and confusion?"

Emma shook her head.

Mrs. Morgan looked Emma in the eyes feelingly, "My children are not little ones anymore, one of these days they will find out by themselves; and when they do, they will be old enough to understand the cruelty of it and lose their trust in their father. But for as long as I could protect them, I want them to live in their happy world, to believe that they have a father and a mother who love them very much and think them special."

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Morgan!" This was almost too painful for Emma to comprehend.

Mrs. Morgan smiled. "I'm the more fortunate one, Mrs. Knightley! There are many women whose situations are much more dreadful than mine. I have fortune, and my husband needs my fortune – I have my dignity for as long as I have my fortune, he or other people cannot look down upon me! Those women who marry without fortune of their own, their husbands rob not only of their life-time happiness, but they also take away their self-worth completely!"

"If he needs your fortune, can't you make him stop?"

"Have you ever pulled weeds from your garden, Mrs. Knightley?"

Emma nodded.

"Do the weeds in your garden ever grow back?"

Emma nodded again.

Mrs. Morgan smiled. "I think you have your answer, then. His heart has long been gone, there's no use stopping it."

"But… you are here _to_…" Emma was intrigued, still wondering the purpose of Mrs. Morgan's visit.

"Hum - you are asking why I came to Kingston?" Mrs. Morgan got up from the sofa and walked to the window, looking out the window instead of at Emma, "I had kept my silence for years, Mrs. Knightley, thinking that if I let him do as he pleased he would change one day. But he took my silence as approval – and things just kept getting worse." She took a deep breath, "Ever since we married, he has been entrusted with my father's fortune and his estate. He came from a tradesman family, he knew very little of farming, or managing the estate and tenants, and was too lazy to learn. My father used to keep him in check quite closely, but since my father passed away two years ago, he has been spending our fortune as fast as he could acquire a mistress. I can't keep my silence anymore - I'm here to cut off his ties in this town before moving onto the next."

"And that's why he didn't know that you were coming!"

"Precisely, if he knew I was coming, he would not have his mistress with him and I would not have the pleasure of telling her off myself!" Mrs. Morgan said coldly, turning around to face Emma again.

"So you saw _her_, I mean… his mistress?"

Mrs. Morgan smiled bitterly, "Yes, I saw her – a tolerable looking thing – I don't even understand why her! But then, why should I be surprised – he and his degraded taste! I went to his chamber after dinner last night, she was there – fled immediately after I told her that her mister would have no money to spend on her after last night."

The bitterness in Mrs. Morgan's eyes had chilled Emma to the bone, but at the same time saddened her to her core. Nevertheless her curiosity was still piqued, and she had one last burning question that she wanted to ask, "You said that Mr. Morgan has a mistress in everywhere he travels, but not in your home town. May I ask why you think it is so?"

Mrs. Morgan looked at Emma and was thoughtful for a moment before she replied. "Mrs. Knightley, I saw how Mr. Knightley looked at you this morning – I could tell you two are deeply in love with each other. I'm very happy for you!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Morgan." Emma said sincerely.

"From the air of Mr. Knightley, I could tell he's an honorable man, a true gentleman." Mrs. Morgan paused to search her thought. "Mr. Morgan might talk like a man, but he has no honor - he's just a _coward_. He knows he needs my father's fortune and he knows my father and I had drawn the threshold at our home town. We would not tolerate gossips spreading all around and reaching to my children's ears. He knew we would throw him out of our lives if he went over that threshold, and he could not afford to be out of our lives."

"But now your threshold has changed and you're cutting off his ties to all his mistresses?"

"Well, I don't think I could ever cut off all of them – he'll always find a way to cheat behind my back, but I need to stop enough of it to preserve my family's fortune for my children."

Mrs. Morgan took another deep breath, her shoulders finally relaxed. She walked back to the sofa to sit down next to Emma again, and smiled kindly at her, "I have lived this life alone for so long that sometimes I forget how nice it feels to have someone to talk to! Thank you for listening to me this morning, Mrs. Knightley!"

"Mrs. Morgan, there's no need to thank me, I had never met a woman as strong as yourself. I admire the courage you have to handle things the way you do!"

"It is not courage that I have, Mrs. Knightley! If I had courage I would have let my father throw him out of my life years ago. What I have is the love for my children – he is an unfaithful husband, but he has been a good father to our children, having a father is still better than being fatherless, I would do anything for my children - I think any mother would!"

Mrs. Morgan smiled brightly and gently laid her hand on Emma's, "I think I have burdened you enough this morning, Mrs. Knightley!"

Emma shook her head with a smile.

Mrs. Morgan continued in her easy spirit, "I'm so glad I had the chance to meet Mr. Knightley this morning! It's so nice to meet a man who loves his wife very much!"

With that said, Emma gave Mrs. Morgan her heartfelt thanks; and Mrs. Morgan appreciated Emma with all her hearts. Though the two ladies parted each other thorough friends, Emma left Mrs. Morgan's chamber with a heavy spirit.

* * *

Slowly and pensively Emma walked back to George's chamber, but the burden in her heart was weighing down her feet, making the already long passageways and corridors seemed even longer. For a while she did not know what to think – the brutal reality of Mrs. Morgan's story had depressed her! She looked at the small world that she lived in Highbury, a world that had sheltered her with people to love and protect her all her life; she looked at the life she lived, ordinary as it was, yet undisturbed and peaceful – boredom, if it should even be considered, was the worst vexation she ever had to face, and if she would have known the world outside of Highbury, the world that she so looked forward to see after steadfastly staying by her father's side for so many years, a world that seemed to have very little to do with the goodness that she had grown accustomed to and taken for granted, she would have been happy and content with her 'boredom' and never trifled it into her follies and blunders! Her heart was full of gratitude for her simple but happy life, and she had never been more grateful for everything and everyone in her world; but, at this very moment, it ached for Mrs. Morgan, and the many women with similar fate, for the loneliness and sadness that they had to endure!

She finally reached George's chamber. She took a deep breath to shake off her troubled spirit before she opened the door to see Betty inside.

* * *

It had been almost an hour and Emma's gentleman disguise did not seem to want to cooperate this morning. First, a button from the waistcoat she wore yesterday had fallen off and Betty could not find it. Fortunately she had ordered Betty to pack two of her mother's three sets of gentleman clothing to the journey, she had put on the other waistcoat instead. Then the cravat pin that she used to secure her cravat the day before had disappeared. Emma thought it must have been lost or fallen on the floor, when in frenzy, she changed from her gentleman clothes into her usual clothes before George's return. A cravat without a cravat pin was never complete in her eyes, so now, Emma was forced to use one of George's pin instead. Then, there's the trouble with her beautiful silky tresses…

"Mrs. Knightley! I don't know why… but I can't seem to pin up your hair like I did yesterday!" Betty had teary eyes as she started to panic.

"But why, Betty? You did such wonderfully yesterday!" Emma looked at her watch and saw that it was almost time to go see Adam and Anna, she was beginning to feel frustrated.

"I don't know why… I'm so sorry Mrs. Knightley!" Tears were coming down Betty's face.

"Oh, Betty! There's no need to get upset, why don't you start over again… it may work better!" Emma composed herself to calm Betty.

"Yes, Mrs. Knightley!" So Betty rushed to pull the hairpins from Emma's hair.

"Ooouch!" Emma screamed a painful scream – a small fistful of her long blonde hair was yanked out of her head during the rush.

"Oh! I'm so, so, so sorry… Mrs. Knightley! Did I hurt you?" If Betty was in a state of distress a minute ago, she was now completely distraught.

"…no… no… please go on Betty… please go on…" Trying to stay calm for both Betty and herself, Emma blinked away the tears in her eyes, caused by the pain and the sight of her beloved hair plucked out of her head now scattered on the dressing-room floor.

Another half an hour later, Emma, at last, had transformed into 'Ian Hamley' once again! She rushed out of the chamber and the inn in delightful anticipation to see her little friends.

* * *

Emma arrived at the fairground, looking, sounding and acting every bit an amiable young gentleman that she was the day before. Nonetheless, she was cognizant of what transpired the day before – now she would be extra mindful of not being spotted by George wherever she was. She went back to the same place where she saw Adam and Anna yesterday, and when she saw them, even from a distance, was already delighted by the sight of the two lovely children.

As soon as Adam and Anna caught sight of their gentleman friend coming, they stopped playing their Cup and Ball to run to her as fast as they could. Adam gave an enthusiastic hug to Emma by the waist, and Anna wrapped her little arms around Emma's legs, pressing her small face against it, both children called out her name happily, "Ian!"

The enthusiastic greetings of her two little friends caused her genteel body to move couple steps backward, but Emma was equally thrilled to see the two absolutely delightful children – she laughed cheerfully and bent down to embrace Adam and Anna.

Gently removing the children wrapped around her person, Emma knelt down to look into their eyes and asked brightly, "How are _you_ _two _this morning?"

"Very well!" The children cheered in unison.

"Look, Ian! Look! Look what we brought today?" Little Anna excitedly reached her small hands into Adam's bag trying to pull something out.

"Let me do it… Anna… let me do it…" Adam was struggling to help little Anna as her hands were caught in his bag.

Finally Adam was able to extract what Anna had been trying to get out of his bag.

"A book!" Emma exclaimed, "Let me guess – this must be another favorite of your mother's!"

Adam and Anna nodded with big smiles.

"And your mother must love to read!"

The children nodded again. Then Anna added, "We love to read, too!"

"Mama used to teach Anna how to read… Papa is too busy, he has no time to teach Anna… and I… I try… but I'm not very good at it!" Adam said, sounding guilty.

Emma smiled and rumpled Adam's hair, "You're such a good older brother, Adam! I'm sure you do a wonderful job teaching Anna!"

Adam smiled shyly and asked, "Will you teach Anna, Ian?"

"Of course!" Emma took the book from Adam, looked at its title and said to little Anna, "Ah! 'Cobwebs to Catch Flies', this is a perfect book for you Anna!"

Just like the day before, Emma led the two children by their hands to sit on the nearby bench. With Adam sitting on one side and little Anna on the other, she turned to the page where a bookmark was inserted and began reading to them. After several pages, she paused and encouraged the children to read the different parts in the new section, and the children consented.

"Now, Adam and Anna, this section is called 'The Toilet', there are three parts in it. Anna, would you like to be the part of the Maid, the Girl, or the Mama?"

"Girl!" Little Anna said excitedly.

"Adam, it's your turn to choose."

"But these are all girl parts, Ian!" Adam frowned.

"That is true! Think of the Maid as a male servant, would you like to be the Maid?"

"Alright!" Adam nodded.

"Then, I'll be the Mama!" Emma said proudly.

"Ian is the '_mama'_!" The two children thought it amusing that their gentleman friend had to play a woman's part.

Emma laughed, raised her eyebrow and said saucily, "Ahem… I'll try to pretend to be a lady and sound like a mama when it's my turn!"

So the three actors began…

Anna started slowly, "I… I… l-i-k-e this c-a-p;" She looked at Emma, who was smiling brightly and nodding enthusiastically at her. "b-u-t it will not… will not… What is this word, Ian?" Pointing at the word she stumbled at, Anna looked up at Emma.

"That is k-e-e-p, Anna, you are doing great! I'll help you whenever you want me to."

Anna resumed, "but will not k-e-e-p on. W-h-y will it not k-e-e-p on?"

Emma clapped her hands and praised, "Well done, Anna! That was perfect!" Then she looked over at Adam to signal him to begin.

"It is too big for you, miss." Adam said it with ease and was rewarded with a bright smile and another rumple of his hair from Emma.

"Go on Anna…" Emma said gently.

"It is o-f-f; it will… it will…" Anna stammered, she looked up at Emma again.

"F-a-l-l" Emma annunciated quietly into Anna's ear.

"... it will f-a-l-l off." Anna finished her sentence.

"You had best lay it down, miss." Adam said, then added, "It's your turn again, Anna!"

"I… I like to… h-a-v-e it; I will p-u-t it on." Anna completed her part proudly and received an enthusiastic cheer from Emma.

It now came the part of the Mama – Emma looked at the two children mischievously, and in her natural voice she read her part tenderly like a mother would, "My dear! Lay it down when you are bid to do so; do not wait to be made to do well."

"_Waaah_!" The two children's eyes and mouths were wide-opened. "You sounded like a _real_ lady, Ian!"

While Adam and Anna were amazed by their gentleman friend's womanly voice, Emma secretly rejoiced in the little trick she played on her little friends!

The three friends spent a while reading, and a long time playing until it was time for Adam and Anna to return to their father. They parted cheerfully and fully expected to see each other again the next day.

* * *

Once Adam and Anna went out of her sight completely, Emma decided to visit Lydia – wondering if the despicable Mr. Morgan would be bothering the timid young woman again.

As she had expected, that man had come back to Lydia at the same time he did the day before; but his behavior was even more detestable than previously – Emma could see from afar that Lydia was struggling to pull herself out of Mr. Morgan's arm which was at the moment wrapping around her shoulders. Emma hurried her long strides to reach the two in a few seconds.

"LET GO OF HER – NOW!" She spoke forbiddingly at the man, looking at him with her fiery eyes.

Startled, Mr. Morgan paused, and as soon as his eyes met Emma's his grip on Lydia's shoulder was loosened involuntarily. Lydia immediately took the opportunity to free herself from him and ran behind Emma.

With force in her voice, Emma reproached the man staring coldly at her, "You are a _disgrace_ to the name of man! To commit such unforgivable act to a helpless young woman – you should be _ashamed_ of yourself!"

"I do as I please!" Mr. Morgan said arrogantly.

Seeing the image of Mrs. Morgan in her mind, Emma decided to confront this man. "How could you be so selfish? Don't you ever think of your wife and your children, or the people that you hurt?"

"How did you know I have a wife?" Mr. Morgan nervously looked around to search for the sight of his wife. Then he glanced at the finger that wore his wedding ring, breathed a sigh of relief and walked away with a smirk on his face.

Emma turned around to see Lydia, "Are you all right, Miss Lydia?"

"Thank you, Mr. Hamley, I'm… I'm fine." Lydia trembled as she replied.

Emma's heart was full of compassion for the young woman, "Miss Lydia, this man does not seem to be willing to leave you alone… I know I have said this yesterday… but you _must_ not let him do this to you again!"

"I'm very obliged to you, Mr. Hamley! I know it is my fault…"

"_N__o_! How could this be your fault Miss Lydia? That man is the sole villain in his vulgarity! But for as long as he would not be the one to stop his despicable conduct, you must take it in your hands to stop him!"

"But… I don't know how Mr. Hamley!" Looking down at her hands, Lydia sounded desperate.

"Courage, Miss Lydia! All you need is a little bit of courage to stand up to him, to say no to him, to stop him! – Only _cowards_ would think of taking advantage of a helpless young woman! Such a coward that he ran off every time when he was confronted! A small dose of your courage, I have no doubt, will crush the false ego of such a disgraceful man. Please remember this, Miss Lydia!" Emma said it forcefully.

Right when Lydia lifted her head to respond she saw two gentlemen standing behind Emma. Without hesitation, she greeted them respectfully.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dickenson. Good afternoon, Mr. Knightley!" Lydia curtsied.

"Good afternoon, Lydia." Mr. Dickenson tipped his hat.

"Good afternoon, Miss Higgs." George took a bow.

Emma froze, her heart almost stopped, at the sound of George's name! And she shut her eyes, not knowing what to do, as she heard his voice!

"Ah! Mr. Hamley, you ran off in such a hurry yesterday, I was hoping to see you today, and I thought we would find you here!" Mr. Dickenson spoke to Emma from behind.

_She was trapped!_ Emma thought. She had no choice but to turn around and face the very person she had hoped she would not have to face since the moment she put on her disguise!

She took a deep breath, and slowly, very, very slowly, turned herself around to greet the gentlemen behind her.


	20. Where the Rubber Meets the Road

**A/N:** ChocolateIsMyDrug, batzmaru347 and eeedddaaa! Thank you so much for your faithful reviews and the anticipation of George finally meeting Ian Hamley! This may not be what you expected, but this is how I had always envisioned it to be! I consider this one of the most important chapters in the story, hopefully you'll see why. Here it goes... :-)

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty: Where the Rubber Meets the Road**_

* * *

Slowly, very, very slowly, Emma turned around to stand in front of Mr. Dickenson and George. Thinking, wishing, and hoping that, with her much shorter stature than George's, if she would not look up at him, if she would bend her head slightly, if she would hide her face under her top hat, he would not be able to see her face clearly.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hamley, I'm so pleased to see you again this afternoon!" Mr. Dickenson greeted Emma and shook her hand warmly as soon as she turned around.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dickenson. It's a pleasure to see you again." Emma said it strainedly, keeping her eyes on the older gentleman without showing a full view of her face to George.

"Mr. Hamley, I would like you to meet Mr. Knightley, he is the gentleman I was speaking of yesterday and he has graciously agreed to be your mentor during your stay at Kingston."

"Auh!" Turning to George with her head slightly bent to hide her face under her top hat as planned, Emma steadied her voice and reluctantly holding out her hand. "That is very kind of you, Mr. Knightley! I'm pleased to meet you."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hamley," George said politely, taking Emma's hand into his and shook it, "Mr. Dickenson has not been able to stop talking about you. It's my pleasure to finally meet you!"

"I saw that you rescued Lydia from that Morgan scoundrel again today!" Mr. Dickenson said to Emma, then turning to Lydia, "You must be grateful for Mr. Hamley's help, Lydia!"

"Yes, Mr. Dickenson, I'm very obliged to Mr. Hamley's kindness!" Lydia was full of gratitude.

With Lydia drawn into the conversation, George took the chance to inquire after her family, "Miss Higgs, may I ask how your father is doing? Mr. Larkins informed me that Mr. Higgs had contracted pneumonia last month, is he making progress in his recovery?"

"Yes, Mr. Knightley! I'm grateful for your kind concern. Father's recovery has been well. Though he hasn't gained all his strength back, compared to some of our neighbors who also contracted the same illness in the past, my father is fairing much better!"

"I'm glad that Mr. Higgs is doing well! What about your brother Roger – is his arm healing well after the accident he had in the winter?"

"Yes, Mr. Knightley, brother's arm had healed completely and we are very fortunate at that, otherwise, we wouldn't have enough hands to get through this busy time."

"That is true. From the look of your booth, I could tell that you and Roger are handling things very well even without so much of your father's help!" George smiled kindly at Lydia.

While George and Lydia went on to discuss the popularity of the Donwell apples and the soon ripened strawberries, with her nerves twisting and wringing ardently inside, Emma continued to bend her head and would not look at George; but she perked up her ears to listen keenly on their conversation.

She heard what Lydia had requested of the Master of Donwell, per her father's wishes, more Donwell apples be allotted to them to sell in the following year, and that if it was all possible, the ripened strawberries be sent to them earlier this year; but what truly impressed upon her was how kind and respectful George was to Lydia. It only took a short while before Emma began to compare the exchanges between Mr. Morgan and Lydia, and George with the same young woman. How differently the two gentlemen had treated this farmer's daughter - as different as night and day, and as far apart as heavens and earth! But – No! She would not call that man a gentleman! How could any man who treated a helpless young woman as she was nothing that mattered, and sullied the sacredness of matrimony without remorse deserve to be called a gentleman? Since she came to Kingston, she had been utterly thrown into a world of disbelief and disgust by vulgar conduct committed by men who undoubtedly looked like gentlemen, but acted like scoundrels. She paused to wonder, _"If appearance cannot be relied upon, then,_ _what makes__ a man __a true gentleman?"_

She knew for certain that the despicable Mr. Morgan and the two abominable scoundrels she saw at the cheese-booth could never be classed as such no matter how fine of clothing they wore and how much wealth they possessed. _"But… what makes a man a true gentleman?"_ She pondered again! She was now completely lost in her thoughts; her inner-voice was the only sound audible to her mind… Could Frank Churchill, who intentionally induced the woman he loved, to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, be called a true gentleman? What about Mr. Elton, a respectable vicar and a favorite of many in Highbury, who ran off after being rejected of a proposal to a woman whom he was not even in love with, and then hastily married another for seemingly dowry instead of love, could he be classed as a gentleman? Then, she came to think of Robert Martin, whom she had said his appearance was so much against him and his manner so bad, but continued to be faithful to Harriet even after being refused; though she had never called him a gentleman… he seemed more of a gentleman than any of these men!

She remembered she had once told Harriet… _"Mr. Knightley's air is so remarkably good, that it is not fair to compare Mr. Martin with him. You might not see one in a hundred, with gentleman so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley."_

There was no doubt in Emma's mind that George was the epitome of the finest of gentlemen - did she not tell Mr. Dickenson during their dinner the night before that she did not know of a truer, kinder, and a more generous gentleman in her life than her very own husband? And she would stand by every word she said! But what she suddenly realized, what she owned to herself at this instant, was how wrong she had been in believing in a mistaken notion of what made a man a gentleman.

Like many, she used to believed that it was the gentry birth, the air and the manner of how a man carrying himself; of walking; of speaking; of being silent; that classed him as a gentleman – how often she had refused to be associated with those who did not fit this impression! She chastised herself for being inexcusably shallow in believing such a distorted notion – how could one set up as hers, who, all her life, had been blessed with an exemplary model of a true gentleman be so blind? Her unpleasant encountering of the last two days had finally opened her eyes to see George's remarkably good air, his gentleman so plainly written in him, were the marks of his superior characters, not his superiority! She came to Kingston with the hope to see, through her own eyes, George's world, his world of being a landowner and agricultural improver - But what she saw was entirely unexpected, far more profound – she saw his world as a true gentleman, and had gratefully gained the understanding of what a true gentleman should be made of!

She was marveled and content! She could feel a smile coming onto her face – it was no longer important to know whether Frank Churchill, Mr. Elton or Robert Martin were true gentlemen or not, her glowing regard for her husband, her life-long friend, the love of her life, was now exploding inside and almost caused her to jump at her feet and bounce over to smother him with a thousand kisses!

"_Get a grip of yourself!"_ Still listening to her own voice, Emma was immensely thankful that she stopped herself before betraying her identity, and within half a second she had composed herself just in time when George finished his conversation with Lydia and asked her politely.

"Mr. Hamley, Mr. Dickenson told me that you were here to learn about farming and land improvement, may I ask how much you know of the subject so I may assess where to begin?"

"… Mr. Knightley, my knowledge on the subject is barely tolerable…I will be grateful with whatever you would like to teach me…" Emma tried to keep her voice as steady as she could without giving away the nervousness knotting inside her stomach.

"Humph…" Assessing the situation, George was thoughtful.

Mr. Dickenson interjected, "If that is the case, Mr. Knightley, may I suggest that you start from the very foundation?"

"Well then, foundation it is!" George replied respectfully to Mr. Dickenson and then to Emma, "Mr. Hamley, in the natural course of farming, the hand goes before the instrument, and the instrument before operation, but the nature of man is far too important and extensive, why don't we begin with the instrument?"

* * *

As the fruit and vegetable markets were near the entrance of the fairground, George intended to lead the way to the core of the fair. The three companies bade Lydia good-day, and headed to the part of the fairground housing the markets for large farming instruments, cattle, horses, goats, sheep, and swine. In spite of her knotty nerves and twisted stomach, Emma, compelled by her never ending curiosity, was excited for the chance to venture to the rest of the fair! As the three walked deeper into the fairground she remembered George had once told her that animals were allowed to roam around at the fair - although most were trapped within their designated area, many farmers and drovers continued to drag cattle, swine, goats and alike around the enormous space, feasting Emma's eyes with many fascinating and amusing sights!

They first stopped in front of a large farm instrument market with an extensive selection of farm equipment. Emma, until now had been laden with anxiety, finally feeling relieved that George after all had not demonstrated any signs of suspicion for her identity, began to listen keenly to her mentor.

"In your opinion, Mr. Hamley, what do you think is the most useful farming instrument?" George asked.

Looking at the variety of ploughs in front of her, Emma suggested, "The plough?"

"I agree. And what specimen of plough are you most familiar with?"

"The Scotch Plough!" She was glad she remembered the one they had at Hartfield.

"And what type of soil the Scotch Plough is most suitable for?"

"Shouldn't a plough be suitable for all soil?"

George walked over to a Scotch Plough and began pointing at the various parts of the instrument as he spoke, "Mr. Hamley, the Scotch Plough is a very strong heavy instrument, about thirteen feet from the handles to the extremity of the beam, and commonly above four feet from the back end of the head to the point of the sock. It is the fittest for breaking up stiff and rough ground."

"If the Scotch Plough is best for stiff and rough ground… does it mean it would not fit for tender and soft soil?" Emma's inquisitive mind was churning.

"A very logical question, Mr. Hamley! By the length of the head and mouldboard of such heavy instrument, the friction is increased, requiring a greater number of oxen or horses than are necessary in shorter plough. Therefore, when the soil is soft and tender…"

Emma eagerly jumped in, "It would be improper to use the heavy plough because it would take more oxen and horses to pull than necessary, therefore adding greatly to the expense of plowing without counterbalancing the benefit!"

"Excellent thought, Mr. Hamley! In fact, not only the heavy plough adds greatly to the expense of plowing – an objection against it still more material is that it does not stir the ground perfectly: the hinder part of the wrist rises a foot above the sole of the head; and the earth that lies immediately below that hinder part is not sufficiently turned over. This is ribbing land below the surface."

"Therefore the Scotch Plough hurts the soil more than benefits it! Then what kind of plough would be proper for tender soil?" Emma was now completely absorbed into the subject.

George then moved to a much smaller plough and explained, "Of all the ploughs fitted for a cultivated soil free of stones, I boldly recommend the James Small plough. The shortness of its head and its mouldboard lessen the friction greatly: from the point of the sock to the back part of the head it is only thirty inches; and the whole length, from the point of the beam to the end of the handles, between eight and nine feet. The sock and the mouldboard make one line gently curving; and consequently gather no earth. Instead of the wrist, the under edge of the mouldboard is one plain with the sole of the head; which makes a wide furrow, without leaving any part unstirred."

"The small plough requires much less human and animal effort to operate, it won't rib the land below, and it will stir the soil thoroughly and completely. Therefore the ease of its operation and the efficacy of the small plough yield the most economic benefit for the farmers!" Emma summarized effectively and George gladly approved.

"Who would have thought there was so much thought put into a piece of farming equipment!" Emma went on to exclaim.

George smiled, "Art comes in all shapes and forms, Mr. Hamley - while most view farming only as a necessity, a few would view it as a form of art, yet even fewer are able to merge the two views together and create inventions that can benefit the human race for generations!"

Mr. Dickenson laughed heartily, "Mr. Hamley, you must excuse my friend Mr. Knightley, I have found his love and appreciation for farming have sometimes caused him to be more abstract than an average landlord."

Emma smiled politely in agreement with Mr. Dickenson, but secretly feeling exceedingly proud of how knowledgeable and how passionate her George was to this very important subject.

"Now that we have talked of ploughs, shall we move on to brake, harrow and rollers?" Mr. Dickenson suggested.

George smiled, agreed and entreated Emma and Mr. Dickenson to follow him to look at the rest of the farming instruments.

* * *

After they had looked at all the important farming instrument, the three walked a short distance and reached the cross roads between the cattle market and the horse market. Right when Emma's eyes were arrested by a beautiful dairy cow leisurely grazing the hay in front of her in her stall, George asked, "Mr. Hamley, would you like to look at cattle or horses first?"

Emma replied instantly, "Cows, I want to look at dairy cows!"

So they walked over to the very cow that Emma was admiring from afar.

George smiled, "Mr. Hamley, I noticed that you have taken a particular liking of this dairy cow here."

Emma nodded silently and her gaze still resting brightly on the beautiful dairy cow.

When Emma was a little girl, she and Isabella used to love watching their dairy cows grazing the luscious green pasture at Hartfield. While Miss Taylor and Isabella would watch them from a distance, little Emma liked to admire the animal up close – she would run all the way to the edge of the fence, climbed up the wooden rail and waved a long hay straw at the cows to get their attention. She loved their gracefulness and easy spirit, wandering and grazing wherever and whenever they pleased. She even had a favorite cow named after herself - Miss Emily, so she secretly called the cow without letting her father knew, fearing that he would object his daughter befriending a cow, for animals always bore dirt and pests. Even though Emma was very fond of Miss Emily, she had never done what George was about to ask her to do!

"Mr. Hamley, I suppose you have dairy cows at your home farm." George asked.

"Oh yes! Dairy cows are my favorite amongst all the livestock we have at _Har_… _Ha__-__mley's_…" _That was close_! Emma thought, and was glad that she caught herself before blurting out the word _Hartfield_ in front of George!

"Have you ever milked a cow before?"

"Milk a cow!" Emma was astounded at his question, "We have servants to milk cows to get their milk – I would never have to do such myself!"

"But have you ever tasted the milk that was the product of your own labor? That you worked hard and labored for?"

Emma was amused, "But… Mr. Knightley, milk that comes from the same cow cannot taste any different whether I milk the cow myself or my servants milk it for me!"

"Ah! Mr. Hamley, you're right that milk comes from the same cow should taste the same no matter who milk the cow. But when a farmer who labors all year round, who gets up before dawn to go to the field and goes home at dusk after a full day of hard work, who prays daily for the rain to water his crops and the sun to help them grow, when that very farmer bites into his own harvest, what he tastes is not just the food itself, it is the _sweetness_ of his hard work, the fruit of his very own labor."

Emma continued to listen intently to George.

"When I was a very young man, my father wanted me to learn the hard labor that every farmer put into his work and what he would taste when he partook his own harvest, he deliberately made me work in our home farm for two years - from milking cows, grooming horses, cleaning the stable, to planting crops and harvesting them. The two years of labor has given me a lifetime of understanding and appreciation for the hard labor every farmer put into his work and respect for these important pillars of our great country."

Mr. Dickenson, who had been listening keenly to George as Emma had, could not help himself to reminisce, "My dear friend, the late Mr. Knightley, had always had a great respect for farmers and their labor. What a great father he was to teach his son in such a generous way! Very few fathers would be willing to put their sons through work that is considered beneath their class."

Emma had not the privilege to know George's father in person, for he passed away when she was not even three years of age, but she had heard so much of him from George that she had had a great respect for her late father-in-law. And at this moment, the respect she had for George and his father was swelling inside her so much that rendered her speechless.

George turned to Emma with a smile and twinkling eyes, "Would you like to try milking this lovely dairy cow, Mr. Hamley?"

Emma opened her mouth as to speak, closed it, then opened it again and looked George in the eyes and swallowed, "Auh! I suppose I could try… there's a first to... everything…"

"Very well, you won't regret it, Mr. Hamley!" With that, George and Emma walked to the farmer who was tending the animal at the moment.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell." George said kindly to the farmer.

"Ah! Good afternoon, Mr. Knightley! How nice to see you again this afternoon. The oxen and cattle you purchased yesterday are on their way to Donwell. Our drover started the journey early this morning."

"That's perfect, Mr. Mitchell. Mr. Larkins will be glad to see them when they arrive!" George smiled, "Mr. Mitchell, my young gentleman friend here would like to try his hand in milking your lovely dairy cow. Would you do me the honor in acting his teacher for the task?"

"That would be my pleasure, Mr. Knightley!" Farmer Mitchell studied Emma for a moment, then said to George quietly, "I take that your friend had never even touched a cow before!" George simply smiled without saying a word.

So the farmer led Emma next to the dairy cow, placed a small wooden bench by the animal and a tin bucket underneath its udder and began to instruct Emma step by step.

"Master, we usually secure the cow in position by tying it with a halter to a sturdy post or hold in a stanchion, in case it moves around or start kicking… but no worries here, Patsy is our gentlest mama, you could do anything to her and she won't move an inch!"

_Start kicking!_ Those words worried Emma. She turned to look at George pleadingly, but was returned with a smile and a nod.

"Here's some water and a cloth, Master, you must clean the teats, rid the dirt and soil, otherwise the milk won't taste, you know… clean!"

Hesitantly Emma handed her top hat to the farmer, rolled up her sleeves, sat down on the small wooden bench, dipped the towel in the water, and gingerly wiped the teats of Patsy, the beautiful dairy cow. It was tolerable, she thought! Patsy did not move and her bare hands hardly touched the animal.

"Now, Master, wrap your hands around two of the four teats, choose diagonal teats, you know, front left and rear right… when those are empty, switch."

Reluctantly, Emma, as instructed, placed her delicate hands on the teats of Patsy and looked up to the farmer for approval.

"Master, you must _wrap_ your hands around them, the way you hold the teats you will be sitting here until the morrow and still won't get a drop!"

Emma stared at beautiful Patsy for a moment, gave her a gentle pat, took a deep breath, then shut her eyes and decided that for what it was worth, she would set aside her apprehension and befriend Patsy as she was a little girl befriending Miss Emily – she wrapped her hands tightly on the warm teats of Patsy and waited for the next instruction.

"Squeeze down to push out the milk, maintaining your grip on the base of the teats so that the milk doesn't flow back up into the udder. Don't jerk. Sequentially squeezing your fingers from the middle to the pinky to force the milk out, be gentle but firm!"

Whenever she put her mind into anything, clever Emma would always succeed. As soon as she was used to the rhythm of the motion, milk started flowing out of Patsy into the tin bucket smoothly. She could hear the milk hitting the bucket even with her eyes shut tight. She finally opened her eyes and saw the silky fluid flowing generously with excitement. Feeling proud and accomplished, she turned to see George's reaction, unaware that her hands had moved, pointing the teats upward to herself instead of downward to the bucket – milk began squirting all over her face and clothes. She let go of Patsy immediately and covered her face with her hands and laughed hysterically!

Mr. Dickenson and Farmer Mitchell also started laughing! George, chuckling, walked over to Emma, took out his handkerchief and began wiping her face while she was still laughing. In the midst of the commotion, Emma's eyes met George's and she immediately took the handkerchief from George's hand, grabbed her top hat from Farmer Mitchell, placed it back on her head, looked down and said shyly, "… Thank you, Mr. Knightley!"

"You're welcomed, Mr. Hamley. Congratulations on laboring for your first bucket of milk!" George smiled warmly.

"I'll never forget this experience Mr. Knightley…" Emma licked the milk from her lips, savoring very bit of it, "… and the milk does taste sweeter coming from my own hands!" She laughed quietly, still looking down at her shoes.

"I'm glad – as the fruit of your own labor always does, Mr. Hamley!" George lowered his voice to match Emma's quiet reply, his tone was gentle and soft when he spoke.

For the rest of the afternoon, the three companies walked through the cattle market. George patiently explained to Emma how to select dairy cows, farm oxen and cattle. He took her to see the breeds of cattle and oxen that he had chosen for Donwell the day before, detailing the reasons for his selection and how they suited the Donwell home farm needs.

* * *

It had been a fruitful afternoon for Emma - She was glad that neither Mr. Dickenson or George had exposed her disguise, but she was even more grateful for the mentoring from her beloved George. The knowledge he shared with her on farming instrument, her experience of milking the lovely dairy cow, Patsy, and the insight on oxen and cattle selection were the very things that she wanted to learn, the very reasons she ventured to Kingston! Just when she was feeling content, she heard Mr. Dickenson asking.

"Mr. Hamley, it sure has been a long day for you, and I could tell that you are feeling fatigue with all the learning you have done today. I think it is time to go back to the inn, freshen ourselves before dinner, and I insist that you do us the honor to join us for supper!"

"Auh! Mr. Dickenson, you are too kind!" Emma smiled uneasily - she was at a lost, not knowing how to refuse.

Mr. Dickenson then turned to George and asked, "Mr. Knightley, I had such a wonderful time with Mrs. Knightley last night, would you and Mrs. Knightley be so kind of giving me the pleasure of having supper with me and Mr. Hamley?"

George smiled, "It would be our honor to have supper with you two gentlemen!"

Emma panicked! _"What should I do? I can't have supper with them as both Mrs. Knightley and Mr. Hamley!" _She quickly conjured a plan, "_YES! Mrs. Knightley will tell Mr. Knightley that she's not feeling well, not fit for company!"_

* * *

The three companies strode their way from the fairground back to the inn. Emma breathed a half-sigh of relief when Mr. Dickenson parted her and George at the inn entrance, but could not let down her guard when George insisted on walking her to her chamber!

Now Emma was thinking to herself, _"George can't walk me to 'our' chamber! What shall I do?"_

"Auh… Mr. Knightley, since you were so kind today for being my mentor, I think it would be more appropriate for me to escort you back to your chamber instead to show my gratitude!"

George consented and accepted the young gentleman's grateful gesture. The two of them walked side by side the long passageways and corridors silently - no words were exchanged during the entire time. Finally they reached George's chamber.

"Well, thank you again, Mr. Knightley!" Emma was elated! - Only a handshake away and she would be freed from the distress that had burdened her the entire afternoon! She held out her hand to George with no hesitation.

George looked around as to see if they were alone. Slowly he reached out his hands, took Emma's into both of his, pressed it gently – then he lowered his head and brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it tenderly!

Emma gasped! Eyes opened wide!

"_Y__OU KNEW_!"

* * *

**A/N:** Of course he knew! I'm sure that's what you thought, too! But how did he know? I'll reveal it in the next chapter, in the mean time, I'd love to hear what you think! :D


	21. Yes, He Knew!

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty One: Yes, He Knew!**_

* * *

Before Emma could utter another word, George had already placed a finger on her lips to silent her. He quickly opened the door to their chamber with the other hand, held her by the arm and tugged her into their chamber. Once inside, standing face to face, wearing a big grin on his face, George kept his silence and let Emma, who continued to look astonished at the moment, spoke.

"You _knew_ it was me!" She repeated in disbelief, "_You_ _knew, you knew_…"

Emma was stomping her feet and pouting her lips like a little girl! Since George kissed her hand outside of their chamber, her voice, her walk, her entire manners had reverted back to her natural womanly way. Her feminine yet frantic reaction, combined with her very dashing 'gentlemanly' appearance had made an incredibly comical sight, which almost caused George to burst out laughing! With much effort, George successfully reduced his urge of laughing to a big-wide grin; he continued to keep his silence, standing there, folding his arms, watching Emma's theatrical response in complete amusement!

"_You knew, you knew… you_ _knew_ it was me… why didn't you say _anything_?" She now folded her arms, turned her back against George and tilted her head up as she was upset with him.

George unfolded his arms, placed his hands on Emma's shoulders and gently turned her around to face him. Still grinning, he finally broke his silence and asked calmly, "Emma, my love, would you have liked me exposing you in front of Mr. Dickenson?"

Emma compressed her lips, furrowed her brows to think for a moment, then she looked George in the eyes and said quietly, "No!"

"That's what I thought!" George smiled with satisfaction.

However, within a second, Emma's curiosity heightened again, "_But_… when did you know? _When_ did you know it was me?"

"Hum…Why don't you guess?" There was a cunning smile on his face.

She pondered for a moment, began to think out loud, "I was so careful the entire time… my gentleman stride could not have given me away… my voice was steady, even though I was nervous at first… Hah!" She thought she had it! "It must be when you wiped the milk off my face - you were so close to me, you could see my face clearly!" She looked to George for his answer.

George smiled and shook his head – Emma furrowed her brows to search her thought again.

"Then… it must be when I took off my hat…you saw my eyes!" She was certain.

He shook his head again, "You know how much I love your hazel eyes, and yes, I would recognize them instantly – but it was _not_ because of your eyes!"

"Then… _when_? Tell me when, _please!_" Placing her hands on his arm, Emma pleaded anxiously.

George mused that perhaps Emma's desperation was enough of a punishment for her mischief; he decided to do away with the suspense and reveal the truth.

"Emma, I must admit that your disguise was truly ingenious - But there were _flaws_!"

_Flaws_! Her hands dropped from his arm. She could not believe what she just heard - He might have recognized her in some ways, as he knew her like she knew herself - But the disguise that she had planned and executed so well was perfect, it could not have _flaws_! Feeling annoyed, she looked away from him.

"Ah! You won't ask me what they were! But I thought you wanted to know a few minutes ago." George could not resist the temptation to tease her.

Still looking away, Emma said unwillingly, "I do want to know – and I'll be the judge as to whether they were real _flaws_!"

"Very well then!" George began with a question, "Where was I when I first saw Mr. Hamley today?"

"Humph… you were…" She was thinking. "Yes! You were standing behind me… I was speaking with Miss Lydia when you and Mr. Dickenson _sneaked _behind me! And that was _not_ fair," she wrinkled her nose "I was trapped and had no way to escape!"

He could not help it anymore, George laughed, amused by Emma's childish expression. "Yes, we _sneaked_ up on you! It was Mr. Dickenson's idea: he wanted me to meet you so badly that he thought you might run away again if you saw us coming."

He cleared his throat to suppress his laughers, "Yes, I was standing immediately behind you." He put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around with her back facing him. Now they were standing in the same position as they stood when he first saw her at Lydia's apple-stand. He lifted a hand to pick up something off of Emma's right shoulder.

"Now, turn around and tell me what this is."

Emma turned around, looked closely at what George was holding up in front of her, her eyes crossed. Astounded! "My hair!" Recalling how Betty plucked out a fistful of her locks while pulling the hairpins out, she was mortified to see the strand of her long blonde hair in his hand, "Good heavens! It was on my shoulder the entire time?"

George simply grinned and nodded.

"But… a strand of long hair cannot proof anything!" She was not convinced.

"That is true, but isn't it unusual for a gentleman with short brown hair to have a strand of long blonde hair on his shoulder?" George asked, but Emma would not answer.

"Now stand still, don't move." He requested.

And she did what he asked. With both his hands, George reached to remove Emma's cravat pin carefully and held it up in front of her eyes. "I noticed _this_ when you turned around to greet Mr. Dickenson. Isn't this mine?"

Exasperated, Emma narrowed her eyes, took the cravat pin from George's hand and said, "But… but… this pin is not so rare…" She disliked losing an argument, even though it was not unusual to lose an argument to George, she would never give in without a rebuttal. "Any gentleman could have used the same pin!"

George shook his head with a warm smile. "You just _don't_ want to admit the flaws in your disguise!"

Feeling even more annoyed, for she knew she was losing her ground, she turned her face away from him again.

"Are you ready for the next one, my love?" George knew Emma as well as the back of his hand, sometimes her pride could stand in the way of her senses, he would be patient with her.

After several moment of silence, Emma finally muttered, "_Ye__s_…"

"You may not like this one…" He smiled mischievously, but deliberately hid his smile before she would turn around, "Show me your hand, Emma." He said, holding out his own hand waiting for her.

Emma slowly turned around to face George, and aligned her hand with his.

"See and feel the differences between your hand and mine." George requested.

Emma examined both their hands closely and admitted, "Mine is much smaller than yours, and it's softer…"

"Your hand is much, much softer and very delicate, Emma! A gentleman uses his hands to work, to ride, to write, and amongst many other things," then he said saucily "not _even_ Frank Churchill's hand can ever be as soft and delicate as a lady's hand. I was certain it was you as soon as I shook Mr. Hamley's hand today!"

Emma was amused at what George was implying over Frank Churchill's hand, and tempted to tease him but let it go, for she still would not be convinced that her disguise had flaws. "But… how could you tell it was me by simply shaking my hand?"

George looked at Emma intently and his voice was soft and sincere, "My most beloved Emma – I had held your hands to go see ducks at the ponds and walk through the shrubberies numerous times when you were a little girl!" He saw Emma's demure smile as he looked her in the eyes, "But the night at the Crown Inn Ball when we danced together for the first time – that was the very first time I took your hands into mine after I realized I was desperately in love with you - it had felt like a thousand tiny little needles shot through my spine - I would never forget how your hands felt in mine!" He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her palm tenderly, then placed it on his heart, covering it with both his hands and said feelingly, "I still have the same feeling every time I hold your hands since that night. I know your hands - your soft, delicate hands - so well that I could never have mistaken them for anyone else's!"

No matter how stubborn she decided to be, no matter how protective of her own pride she always had, how could her heart not succumb to such tender declaration? Emma was now completely satisfied with George's answers! She rested his hands on her heart and ever so softly she confessed to him, "I'm convinced now!"

But she turned worried at her next thought!

"Were you surprised to see me in gentleman clothing?" She asked timidly, watching carefully for his reaction.

George smiled softly, "Emma, my love, I think '_surprise'_ was a gross understatement!" He took a small sigh, "Perhaps it was a mere stroke of luck that I was standing behind you instead of in front when I saw Mr. Hamley - the intrigue of the young man and the strand of long blonde hair on his shoulder had prepared me to expect something unusual was about to happen – even then, as you turned around, my heart almost stopped when I saw my cravat pin! Many things flashed in my mind instantly – the strange question you asked when we were at Hartfield the night before my journey, you had asked if I would be willing to take you with me to the fair if you were a gentleman; your mother's story that you had shared with me yesterday morning, and yours and Betty's unusual behavior yesterday afternoon when I returned from the fair; they all seemed to make perfect sense as I stood there watching you as a 'gentleman'! I am thankful for the few seconds that Mr. Dickenson took to greet you, for they gave me a chance to calm myself – that was the only reason why I was able to maintain my composure when I shook your hand!"

Emma smiled ruefully, her face flushed, she was almost afraid of looking at George in the eyes.

George continued, "I was certain that _you_ were the young gentleman once I felt your hand, but while I was speaking with Miss Higgs, I also took the time to observe you a little, unnoticeable to you and the others. You took pain to hide your face under your hat, but I could still see the features on your face when you moved. I was amazed at how perfect your disguise was, and decided to go along with it so that I would not embarrass you in front of Mr. Dickenson and Miss Higgs."

Tugging at his waistcoat, looking down at her dress, Emma asked guiltily, "Are you angry with me, George?"

George lifted her chin to force her to see the warm smile on his face. "I must tell you that Mr. Hamley was a very fine student, he was eager, willing and attentive; I was very impressed by his inquisitive mind and active participation! _Although__," _he gave her a sly glance, "if I were him, I would have chosen to dress _differently_ for the occasion! I think it would be unjust to be angry with such an excellent student, wouldn't it?"

Emma nodded demurely and replied shyly, "Hum, hum… it would be…"

"However," George was not finished, "as for Mrs. Knightley," raising his eyebrows, deliberately using a firmer tone, "I certainly think that she had outdone herself in her mischief this time! I could only conjecture such an intelligent scheme must be inspired by her very clever mother's noble act to help her grandfather from years past." He saw Emma's sheepish smile in his own twinkling eyes, "I also think it would be unjust to be angry with Mrs. Knightley, who," his tone turned very gentle, "for the sake of her husband, dared to commit such a scheme in order to see his world with her own eyes!" He lifted a hand to caress her soft cheek tenderly, "I think Mr. Knightley is the most fortunate man to have a wife who loves him so much, don't you think?"

Emma blushed, wrapped her arms around George, and laid her head on his chest and said sincerely, "Thank you for not being angry with me, George!"

"You're very welcomed, my dearest Emma!" George lovingly returned her embrace and bent his head to bring her lips to his.

"_Ouch_!" Rubbing his upper lips, he cried. "Is that how it feels when I kiss you before I shave?"

Emma laughed, smoothing her little bushy mustache with her fingers contently, she said saucily to George, "_Yes_, but I _don't _complain! I _do_ like that tingling feeling when you kiss me before you shave!"

He clasped her to him, bent his head and spoke softly into her ears. "Humph! Mr. Hamley, when are you planning to return my beautiful wife to me? You see, I have not seen her the entire afternoon and am missing her dreadfully!"

Emma giggled, reaching her hand up to her wig, "As soon as he could remove the wig, take off all the pins in his hair and get out of these clothes!"

George slid the waistcoat off of Emma, removed her vest and cravat, "_Hmm__m_! You know… the buttons on gentleman shirts are not as tiny as the ones on ladies' dresses…" As Emma had finally removed her wig and peeled off her mustache, he had already wrapped her in his arms from behind and began unbuttoning her shirt and kissing her neck.

"_Mmmmm… _" She sighed - he always knew how to make her weak! Shifting snuggly in his embrace, she held onto his hands which were hard at work on the buttons of her shirt, "… _George_… _whatever..._ you're thinking of… " she took a deep breath, "I think... will have to wait… have you forgotten that we are to meet Mr. Dickenson for dinner?"

George summoned up all his will power, unwillingly released Emma from his arms to stand up straight, but his eyes sparkled mischievously, "Yes, speaking of Mr. Dickenson – just how are you going to attend our dinner engagement as both Mr. Hamley _and_ Mrs. Knightley, my love?"

Emma furrowed her brows, "It's all your fault! You agreed to Mr. Dickenson that you and I would join him and Ian Hamley for supper!"

"Ah! Is that really? So you think it is my fault that you put on gentleman clothing to go to the fair and get acquainted with Mr. Dickenson? Humph! I see…"

"_Oh well_! If you must put it this way…" Emma felt fully the guilt that was rightfully hers! "Since I created this predicament… I suppose I must face the consequences, huh?" Her guilty eyes met his impish ones.

With his grin spreading from ear to ear, George nodded slowly at his beloved Emma!

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter - I truly appreciate every one of them! And you guys are so smart: all of you were right about how George knew it was Emma! :D

Is it just me, or did anyone have the same thought popped into her/his head? During editing this chapter, when I came to the part where George said that his heart almost stopped when Ian Hamley turned around and he saw his own cravat pin on the young man… I thought perhaps Ian Hamley was having an affair with his wife! LOL! My goodness and I wrote the chapter! Anyway, if you had the same thought, I'm glad to let you know that that thought never crossed George's mind – their marriage is too strong and he knows Emma loves him too much to even think as such! So, probably it was only me! :D :D :D

Anyway, I'd love to hear from you on this chapter! :-)


	22. When the Curtain Calls

**A/N:** Phew! I'm so relieved that I was the only one (reference to A/N in Chapter Twenty One!) Thank you for your reviews, as always, with much gratitude! :)

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty Two: When the Curtain Calls**_

* * *

"Good evening, Mrs. Knightley, what a pleasure to see you again this evening!" Mr. Dickenson bowed and greeted Emma warmly as soon as the couple walked into the dinning-room. "And good evening, Mr. Knightley!" He shook George's hand fondly as he always did.

"Good evening, Mr. Dickenson!" Emma curtsied prettily, but her smile was strained.

"Good evening, Mr. Dickenson, I hope you have not waited for long!" George regretted that they were a few minutes late to their engagement.

"Not at all, Mr. Knightley! After the wonderful time we had last night, I am too excited to feel the time passing. I have no doubt that it'll be another delightful evening, especially with the charming Mrs. Knightley and the amiable Mr. Hamley!"

Emma's smile turned even more uneasy! She peeped through the corners of her eyes at George to see the knowing smile on his face.

"Ah… I don't suppose you saw Mr. Hamley on your way from your chamber?" Mr. Dickenson inquired.

"No, Mr. Dickenson, we have not the pleasure of running into the young gentleman." George replied politely, and gave a quick glance at Emma, who was now sighing quietly.

After they waited at the entry-way for a few minutes, Mr. Dickenson noticed the usually lively and charming Mrs. Knightley was quiet and reserved, thought she must be fatigued for standing too long and suggested that they would wait for the young gentleman inside the dinning-room instead.

* * *

The three guests were seated at the same table as the night before. However, the jovial bantering from the previous night was replaced by an awkward silence thick in the air. None of them were speaking; all of them seemed to be anticipating anxiously the appearance of the young Mr. Hamley!

"Humph! I wonder where Mr. Hamley is…" They had been waiting for almost twenty minutes; Mr. Dickenson began to look around the dinning-room while drumming his fingers on the table mechanically.

"I wonder, too." George said plainly, joining Mr. Dickenson in drumming his fingers on the table, synchronizing in their rhythms.

While the gentlemen were fingering mindlessly, Emma, the lady, had been shifting in her seat restlessly and looking around the dinning-room carelessly, laying her eyes on every movement of every guest, purposely avoiding meeting the eyes of the two gentlemen seating in front of her.

Another five minutes had past. George's penetrating eyes finally caught Emma's, and in his unspoken words he urged her to put an end to her pretense and break up this excruciating silence!

Emma had hoped that if she would be patient and kept her silence long enough, Mr. Dickenson might suggest that the fatigue of the young gentleman must have taken over his body, causing him to fall asleep in his chamber, therefore not able to attend his dinner engagement. What a splendid outcome it would have been! But to her greatest disappointment, Mr. Dickenson seemed to possess the patience of a saint! And the longer she allowed the time to elapse, the guiltier she felt for keeping him in the dark. Now, as much as it was against her first inclination, she felt that she must come clean to her mischief before even more time should slip away – after all, this older gentleman had been nothing but gracious to her as well as Ian Hamley, how, in her good conscience, could she continue to deceive this kind man? And what was more - She knew that George had left it to her good sense to mend the predicament that she managed to create all by herself and drag Mr. Dickenson into it; in her heart's eyes anything other than the honorable truth would not do!

She began to formulate a way, nay, a speech to explain her situation – but it was even more difficult than she had thought! She was tremendously thankful for George not being angry with her at her mischief, for his intimate knowledge of and insurmountable love for her had posed him to overlook and forgive her practically anything! But would Mr. Dickenson, who had only known her for measly two days, understand? He could not have known her inspiration for the disguise - and she had vowed to never reveal her mother's secret to anyone who was not already in the secret. Would this kind gentleman be casted into deep disappointment when he found out that the courageous and righteous young man whom he admired so much was really a woman? She sighed! The only consoling thoughts she had at the moment were that she had never intended to deceive any one, especially Mr. Dickenson; and that she had never planned for Ian Hamley to be acquainted with the older gentleman, although she could have not gone to the fair on the second day and avoided the chance of meeting him again; and that all she had done was done out of good intention and love for George - surely Mr. Dickenson would understand and think her folly justifiable!

There was no easy way to let her truth told - but it must be told! She was resolved and willing to accept the consequences of her own action. Knowing that this awkward silence was hers to break, she inhaled her next breath long and deep.

"…Auh… Mr. Dickenson… as you are such a well traveled, well learnt gentleman…" She paused to look at Mr. Dickenson, who was looking at her, giving her his sincere attention.

"… Hum… with your advanced years," she raised an eyebrow, "I dare say that you have seen the _most _unusual things… _nothing_ should surprise you, shouldn't it?" She smiled nervously, "Just like King David said '_The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.'_" Nervous indeed, but she was proud to have recited the scripture correctly! That was until George brought her mistake to her attention.

With every bit of his desire not to embarrass her, he had tried hard to hold his tongue, but he could not help it when it came to the accuracy of the scripture. George leaned close to Emma and lowered his voice, "It was King Solomon, Emma! You were quoting from the book of Ecclesiastes. King Solomon wrote that book in the Bible, not King David."

"King Solomon or King David… " Emma muttered to herself, then turning to Mr. Dickenson and smiled ruefully, "Would you please excuse us for a moment, Mr. Dickenson?"

She turned to George and whispered in slight annoyance, "What does it matter, George? That it was written by King Solomon or King David - he's a _King_! Can't you see that I'm trying to make a point?"

He whispered back, "Emma, I see your point, but you're speaking of the scripture, the Word of God, you must treat it with reverence! King Solomon was the son of King David, who wrote the Book of Psalms, not Ecclesiastes."

"_Alright… al__right_!" Emma sat up straight, cleared her throat, turning back to Mr. Dickenson.

"Humph! Where was I?" She paused, temporarily lost. "Yes! As I was saying, Mr. Dickenson, even _King_ _Solomon _had said there was no new thing under the sun - a man such as yourself, nothing should ever, _ever_ surprise you… although at times" she narrowed her eyes "… something quite _unusual_happens - for good reasons of course –" she smiled charmingly, "that might be surprising to many, but I'm sure with your wisdom and wit and infinite experience, even the most unthinkable is really thinkable…or in fact the expectable…" She paused to check herself, "…well… perhaps expectable is stretching a little…"

Unfortunately, by this time, Emma was completely lost in her own words, Mr. Dickenson surely looked lost, and George - he looked like he was on the verge of bursting into a hysterical laughter!

Mr. Dickenson creased his eyebrows and broke his silence, "Humph - Mrs. Knightley, you are sounding very abstract just now… perhaps it would help if you would tell me what it is that is in your mind in _plain_ English."

"Oh! _Plain English_- Yes, of course, it would help indeed!" Emma smiled apologetically, "Mr. Dickenson, I'm sure you would agree that sometimes, something is not really what it seems…" she saw the older gentleman's nod, "and once in a while, you might meet someone who is not what _he_ seems…"

"Yes, Mrs. Knightley, in my lifetime, I have indeed met many who were not whom they seemed to be! Mr. Morgan is a very good example..." Mr. Dickenson gestured Emma and George to turn to see the couple who were entering into the dinning-room.

It was Mr. and Mrs. Morgan who just walked in and seated at a table far away at the other side of the dinning-room. The couple looked perfectly composed as most married couple should, but the sight of Mrs. Morgan reminded Emma of the lady's tragic story and saddened her all over. As Emma shifted her gaze from the couple to George, she saw the stern look on his face and knew that he had not forgiven Mr. Morgan for his despicable attempt to take her hand the night before. All of these, along with the idea of Mr. Dickenson's classing of her amiable Ian Hamley with the repulsive Mr. Morgan had mortified Emma to a great extent. She suddenly panicked!

"Oh! No… oh no… that's not what I meant, Mr. Dickenson. The person I'm speaking of is _nothing _like Mr. Morgan…"

Mr. Dickenson looked at Emma quizzically.

Emma knew, no matter how hard she tried, how affected she made her superfluous speech to be, there was nothing like the simple truth – it was time to give up!

"_Alright_!" She drooped her shoulders, slumped her back, "I'll be honest with you, Mr. Dickenson," looking down at the dinner plate in front of her, "I regret to tell you that Mr. Hamley is not coming to dinner tonight… he will never come… you will never see him again… and I'm truly sorry that I have caused your disappointment!"

"Mrs. Knightley, why would Mr. Hamley's not coming be a disappointment to me from you?"

She looked up at the older gentleman with guilt, "That is because, Mr. Dickenson, that Mr. Hamley is Mrs. Knightley, and Mrs. Knightley is Mr. Hamley!" Emma threw her hands in mid-air and confessed.

The awkward silence was veiling the three companies again! But before long, Mr. Dickenson's compressed mouth turned into an arched smile, and his arched smile turned into his unmistakable hearty laugh instantly. Both Emma and George looked at each other, bewildered!

Mr. Dickenson clapped his hands jovially, and when he finally caught his breath from laughing so hard, he said to Emma.

"I'm so glad I waited for you to tell me the truth, Mrs. Knightley!"

"_What_? _You waited…_you mean… you _knew_, too!" Emma blurted with the most amusing expression on her face – disbelief, embarrassed, amazed, relieved! And George shared the same expression on his.

"Mrs. Knightley, perhaps I should be the one to apologize – for putting you through such an agony in the last thirty minutes. All I wanted was to hear the truth from you – to prove that you were the courageous and righteous person that I knew you were – Oh! I hope you would forgive me, Mrs. Knightley!"

"So you knew that Mrs. Knightley was Mr. Hamley?" George was exceedingly curious.

"And you knew from the beginning?" Emma jumped in as well.

"Oh, yes! Mr. Knightley, I knew Mrs. Knightley was the very amiable Mr. Hamley!" Mr. Dickenson spoke to George then turned to Emma, "But no, Mrs. Knightley, I did not know that until today!"

"But, how? How did you know, Mr. Dickenson? Was it the long blonde hair on my shoulder? I don't think you know my hand!" Emma asked earnestly.

Mr. Dickenson was puzzled by Emma's questions, but he answered politely, "No, Mrs. Knightley, it wasn't your hair, or your hand. Your disguise was truly perfect!"

"But how did you know, Mr. Dickenson?" George's curiosity was deeply piqued.

Mr. Dickenson looked directly at George, "It was you, Mr. Knightley!"

"_Me_?" George was astounded!

"Yes! _You_!"

"But I only found it out myself today, and I took great care to hide my discovery and compose my countenance all day long. What have given me away?"

Mr. Dickenson smiled warmly as he explained, "From the moment I saw Mr. Hamley, he was nothing but intriguing! He did not seem like a typical gentleman to me, rather petite and delicate, but I took him as merely too young and inexperienced. I was extremely impressed by his courage and character after witnessing his acts of kindness in multiple occasions yesterday. But then he puzzled me when he ran off in haste as soon as he saw you, Mr. Knightley, coming to us amongst the crowd!"

"But did you not notice the resemblance between him and me during last night's dinner?" Emma asked earnestly.

"A very interesting question, Mrs. Knightley! As you were wearing a hat all of yesterday, I could not see clearly all of the features on Mr. Hamley's face, but I did notice the similar height and stature between you and the young man, as well as some striking resemblance between the beautiful Mrs. Knightley and the dashing young gentleman."

Mr. Dickenson looked sincerely into Emma's eyes, "But it would have been outrageous and utterly disrespectful to suggest, even to myself, that the two persons were really one! The thought never even entered, not even for a fraction of a second, into this old man's head. And I'm grateful for that, otherwise, my extremely agreeable evening with my favorite couple last night would have been ruined with a pre-occupied mind!"

"But then… you said it was Mr. Knightley who gave it away, Mr. Dickenson, how did it happen?" Emma asked with immense curiosity.

Mr. Dickenson broke into a smile, nodded, then turned to George and teased, "Ah! Mr. Knightley, you must remember that your old friend could read you like a book!"

George smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, glanced over at Emma and saw her saucy smile.

"You did take great care to hide your feelings today, Mr. Knightley! And honestly I did not notice anything at the beginning. But the longer you talked to the young gentleman, the tenderer you became and the two of you acted in such harmony with each other even early on during the mentoring session, I began to suspect that you had known each other before today."

Feeling a little embarrassed, but not at all surprised by the acutely observant Mr. Dickenson's comment, both George and Emma looked each other in the eyes and smiled affectionately.

Mr. Dickenson said to Emma, "And when I recalled how Mr. Hamley ran off yesterday as soon as he saw Mr. Knightley approaching, the resemblance in his and Mrs. Knightley's height, stature and features, my suspicion grew stronger and stronger, and the thought of Mrs. Knightley was really Mr. Hamley was beginning to seem reasonable, rather than disrespectful!"

Turning back to George, "When we were at the Cattle Market - when you walked over to Mr. Hamley and used your handkerchief to wipe his or should I say _her _face? Not only I could see every beautiful features of Mrs. Knightley on the young man's face, I could also see the tenderness and pride in your eyes, George!" Mr. Dickenson laid his hand on George's shoulder and gave it a warm pat.

The lovely couple both looked down with the most sheepish smiles on their crimson colored faces.

Mr. Dickenson laughed his unmistakable hearty laughs again before he spoke kindly to Emma, "I am so sorry, Mrs. Knightley! I have probably embarrassed you enough. As much as I am desperately curious to find out the reason for your action - for I believe an extremely good reason you must have - I think it would be better for this old man to respect yours _and _Mr. Knightley's privacy and cease my curiosity at once. Nonetheless, before we move onto a more neutral subject, I would like to express my utmost admiration for your creativity and ingenious disguise! And now – I think this old man can proudly say that I have indeed seen _everything _under the sun!"

Perhaps embarrassment, Emma mused, was really a just and very small punishment for her action! The relief swelling so great inside her almost made her stood up and embraced the kind Mr. Dickenson, who at this instant was more to her like a beloved uncle than an old friend of her George! As propriety would disapprove such embrace, and words had failed her, Emma resolved to give Mr. Dickenson the brightest, sweetest and most entrancing smile to express her gratitude for his understanding and appreciation for her mischief!

As for George, with his thankful smile broadly written across his face, he could hardly contain his own relief that his long-time friend was not offended by his beloved wife's deception! But what else, besides the smile of relief, was written so plainly on his face? The pride of his beloved Emma confessing her folly truthfully and willingly! How he had always believed in her – others might think her only a rich spoilt child of the Highbury elite – she was capable of great compassion, understanding and integrity! Perhaps under any other circumstances, committed by any other persons, a lady disguising as a gentleman would have been completely ridiculous and inconceivable. But when the reasons behind were taken and appreciated, and when the person who committed it was the person he had known all her life, loved her since she was a child, fell head-over-heels, hopelessly and desperately in love with since she had grown up, and she was his and only his, fanciful and whimsical Emma, how could he not be bewitched and fallen even deeper under her spell - however ridiculous and inconceivable her folly was!

As for all three of them – by the end of their supper, a day of misplaced identity forgotten, another extremely pleasant evening past, and the feeling of the equilibrium of the universe restored – perhaps the best and only thing left to be done was to bid each other good-night and retire to their chambers to entreat the pleasant company of Morpheus to bring this most agreeable evening to its perfect end!

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**A/N:** Thank you for sticking to this story this far! I have only a small twist to cover and some to wrap up, probably couple more chapters (I think) before bringing this to an end. With much discipline and luck, I have been able to update weekly, but my schedule has changed and time to work on the story will be cut substantially! It may be couple weeks or even longer before the next update. Sorry about this, but I promise that I will finish this story!


	23. That Man!

**A/N**: Thank you for your comments and patience! :-) Here's a new chapter.

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty Three: That Man!**_

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There was not a feeling quite like waking up to the sweet air of clear conscience to Emma! If anxiety of her deception had dampened her spirit the last two days - honesty, no doubt, had sent it high in the sky! This feeling of burden lifted, the lightness of a feather afloat in the clouds, must be, Emma mused, the same feeling that her father felt after his confession of an eighteen-year concealment of her mother's letters from Isabella and her! Only his 'crime' was more serious and his burden hundred times heavier – little wonder he felt so uplifted that he desired an extra round of the garden in his exercise the morning after! (Emma sank under the blankets to giggle quietly!)

Though George was still sleeping soundly next to her, she snuggled up even closer against him – it did not matter that she might awaken him, she knew that he always welcomed her closeness regardless the time of day or night – the warmth of him warmed her to a sweet smile, she patiently waited for him to open his eyes.

He might be half-asleep, but every time when George opened his eyes to the sight of his precious Emma, his sleepy face instantly turned into a smile. "_Mmmm_… Good morning, my love!" His voice was hoarse, but there it was, his loving smile, followed with a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Good morning, my _handsomest_ husband!" Her face and eyes lit up radiantly. "Have I told you how I love you lately?" Her delicate fingers raked his tousled hair before running down his cheek gently.

George was amused! Of course he loved hearing Emma professing her love for him, but she would usually do it when she was in a particular happy spirit – and he knew her too well to miss what brought this gleefulness in her. "I think your confessionals yesterday have done you much good, my dearest Emma!" George said, loving her brilliant smile.

"_Hmm… hmm_! And I know you are going to say how you _always_ tell me that honesty is the foremost virtue." She playfully patted his cheek. "And then I will tell you that you're right _this_ time!" She giggled and pressed a kiss on his smiling lips.

He always knew how highly she regarded his judgment and characters in her heart, contrary to how seldom her pride betrayed her heart so straightforwardly in words. He could have teased her or basked in this rare admission, but instead, he clasped her even closer, prolonging the kiss on their smiling lips, and allowed himself to savor her happiness and this delicious morning-treat. Once his treat was thoroughly relished, he sat up on their bed and gently pulled her up to curl next to him.

With his strong arm wrapped around her small waist, George asked, "Have you been to the shore yet, Emma? Perhaps you and Betty could take a stroll there today; you may find many things that interest you."

Emma lifted her head to look at him expectantly, "Why? Aren't we continuing our farming lesson today?"

George seldom forgot to let Emma in on anything; unfortunately he did this time. "I'm very sorry, Emma! I have forgotten to tell you that there will be a meeting today to discuss draining systems!"

"But William Larkins didn't say there would be a meeting today!" She was surprised.

Guiltily, he explained, "It is an impromptu arrangement, Emma. The other day I had talked of the underdrain technology with a crowd and arouse quite an interest with many, they wanted to explore the topic further and have invited me to join a panel of agricultural improvers to discuss draining systems in depth."

Emma was disappointed! She had been meaning to learn more about farming, perhaps not to the extent to help George in any substantial way, but being able to understand his passion was all that she looked for. The lesson from yesterday was the genuine proof of her interest in his world and her aptitude for it. But now her hope for an enjoyable day of mentoring by her beloved George, particularly free of the distress of Ian Hamley, was ruined!

And George was equally disappointed! He wanted more than anything to spend the day with Emma for two good reasons – for one, he was impressed by her eagerness and how quickly she grasped the knowledge, he would love to continue with her farming lesson before their returning to Highbury; as for the other - after being apart from her for so many days, to be able to spend an entire day with his beloved Emma, the lady _not_ the 'gentleman', was much more enticing to him than being with a group of landowners and farmers. Nonetheless, as a man of honor, despite his desires, his duties must come first; he could not turn down the opportunity to contribute to his fellow countrymen.

"I would love for you to come to the meeting…" He started tentatively but was interrupted.

"But there won't be many ladies, will there?" Emma saw him shaking his head. "It would be awkward, wouldn't it?" Now he was nodding. "I don't want pairs and pairs of eyes staring at me!" She sighed.

"And I don't want all those men staring at you either!" George jumped in without a second thought, and Emma laughed at the possessive, yet immensely endearing and handsome, expression on his face.

"Then, while you attend your meeting," Emma was lively again, "I'll go visit Miss Lydia, make sure that Mr. Morgan will not disturb her today!" She said it with confidence.

"No, Emma!' George dropped his arm from her waist and his endearing expression had suddenly turned serious, "You will _not_ go anywhere near that man!"

"But, George! He had been bothering Miss Lydia the last two days, I'm sure he will do the same today!"

"No, Emma!" Looking tensed, his insistence was firm, "I will _not_ allow you to be in the presence of that man. Have you forgotten the indecent way he looked at you and his despicable attempt to take your hand the other night?" The images of that night disturbed him excessively, "And he did it right in front of my eyes - Heavens know what he would have done if I weren't there!"

The stern look on George's face concerned her – not because she was afraid of him, but because it was uncharacteristic of him to be so agitated in the absence of true danger! She swallowed and pleaded, "But, George… What about Miss Lydia?"

He took in a deep breath, but his voice was still stiff when he spoke, "Emma, Miss Higgs is a grown woman; she could take care of herself!"

"No, George, I don't think she can, at least not for the past two days…" Emma grew quiet. She was hesitant to say more, she knew George would never turn away from anyone in need, but yet, he was so much against the idea!

George was pensive for a moment. He had tried to return to his usual composed manner with little success, but he did manage to gently lay his hands on Emma's shoulders and said half-calmly to her, "Emma, Mr. Morgan should be in the meeting today, I think Miss Higgs would be safe from being bothered by him for the time being."

It was his natural instinct to protect her for as long as she could remember, Emma understood; nonetheless, his fear of Mr. Morgan injuring her was truly unnecessary, for she fully aware of the man was only a coward underneath wolf-skin, and she knew how to handle him by experience. Since Lydia would be in no danger of being harassed by Mr. Morgan, who would be trapped in a meeting all day - she thought to herself: Emma _Woodhouse_ would not have hesitated to defy Mr. Knightley's unjust concerns! But - Emma _Knightley_ was different – her love for George would will her to submit to his objection in exchange for restoring the peace of mind in her most beloved husband, her ever worrisome lover and protector!

She twined her fingers with his, and in her soft soothing voice she said lovingly to him, "Don't worry George, I won't go!" Then she buried herself in his embrace, listening to his uneven heartbeat gradually returning to its normal rhythm.

* * *

Later that morning, George had left for the meeting leaving Emma and Betty to ready themselves for a leisure stroll by the shore. Emma was amused by the expression on Betty's face – she looked like she was even more relieved than her mistress for not having to dress her as a dashing 'gentleman'! It was obvious that Emma's disguise had distressed Betty beyond comprehension. The fear of Mr. Knightley finding her being the accomplice of her mistress' scheme had robbed this timid girl two peaceful-nights of sleep as well as the color on her face. But, now, Betty could cheerfully anticipate the enjoyment of the shops and sights of the Kingston shore.

However, as soon as Emma and Betty reached the rod-iron gate of the inn everything changed. They were greeted by Mrs. Morgan, who had just returned from her morning walk. Just as the past two days, the two genteel ladies were delighted to see each other and exchanged their very pleasant politeness; unfortunately, the pleasantness was shattered shortly after Emma asked an innocent question.

"Mr. Knightley is at the draining system meeting today, me and my maid are going to explore the shops by the shore this morning, would you care to join us, Mrs. Morgan?"

"How kind of you to ask, Mrs. Knightley!" Mrs. Morgan said smilingly, "but I'm waiting for Mr. Morgan to return from the market before we begin our journey home – now that he had done all he needed to do here, I thought it would be best to go home as soon as possible." Mrs. Morgan gave Emma a knowing look and Emma understood her fully.

But in a split-second, Emma was alarmed, "You mean Mr. Morgan is _not _at the draining system meeting today?"

"Oh, no. He said it was the last place he wanted to be… as soon as he came back from getting his favorite apples at the market, we will be getting on our journey."

"_Apples_!" Emma's heart began to pound rapidly.

"I know! I told him that he could send a servant to get them, but he said he would not trust anyone to pick his favorite apples for him," Mrs. Morgan frowned and shook her head, "I don't even know he had such fondness over Kingston's apples!"

'_Miss Lydia!'_ Was all Emma could think of before she put her clever mind to work up a plan – she had promised George that she would not go to Lydia for his fear of her being in the presence of Mr. Morgan, but she could not possibly ignore the fact that Lydia needed help - Yes! She knew, well, she hoped, George would understand that she would be safe from Mr. Morgan in the presence of the man's wife.

"Mrs. Morgan, I think I know why Mr. Morgan is so fond of Kingston's apples…" Emma saw the bewildered look on the kind lady's face, "if you wouldn't mind coming with me, I will be able to show you the reason."

With that, Emma whisked Mrs. Morgan to the Kingston Fair, to Lydia's apple-stand, leaving Betty sighing as she returned inside the inn, alone!

* * *

As the two finely dressed ladies quickened their steps to their destination, how Emma wished she was wearing gentleman trousers - she could have arrived at Lydia's in half the time! But, she would have to wait for Mrs. Morgan and that would have slowed her down, so she put away her wish and focused on her steps. While Mrs. Morgan knew in her mind that her husband's sudden fancy of Kingston's apples must not be as innocent as he made of it, she walked side by side with Emma silently, preparing herself for what might - or not - be a surprise.

They were finally about twenty yards away from Lydia's apple-stand. Emma's sharp eyes immediately spotted Mr. Morgan's arm around the young woman's shoulders. But to her most pleasant surprise, instead of being timid and intimidated by the despicable man, she saw Lydia struggling firmly, not helplessly, to free herself from his grip.

The same sight caught Mrs. Morgan's eyes almost immediately after Emma's. She gasped, exasperated, "That man! What shall I to do with him?" She immediately took her steps, intending to reach her husband as soon as she could.

"Wait! Mrs. Morgan." Emma said quietly, not willing for Mr. Morgan or Lydia to hear her. She reached her hand to stop Mrs. Morgan by the arm. "Please wait, Mrs. Morgan…" She pleaded again, and Mrs. Morgan halted herself. Both ladies stood in silence to observe what was unfolding from twenty yards away.

They could see Lydia said something to Mr. Morgan while she was struggling, but could not hear what she said. Then suddenly, Lydia lifted her left foot, stomped it on the man's right foot with might – "Ouch!" He cried, loud and clear, even audible in a twenty-yard distance. With his grip slightly loosen, Lydia shifted, lifted her right hand and slapped his left cheek soundly. Instantly he took his hand off the young woman's shoulders and rubbed his slapped cheek. Lydia seized the opportunity to run away from the man and hid herself behind the post of the apple-stand.

"Come!" Emma said to Mrs. Morgan and immediately walked over to Lydia, while Mrs. Morgan to her husband.

"How could you stand so low and do this to an innocent young woman?" The anger in Mrs. Morgan could not be suppressed.

Mr. Morgan, with red finger marks on his cheek, was shocked by the sight and voice of his wife, he looked at Emma, who at the moment was staring into his eyes coldly, then he turned to his wife, "Catherine! I… was… only…"

"You really have _no_ shame! You will _never_ come to Kingston again, and you will _never_ come near this young woman!" Mrs. Morgan commanded before turning to search for Lydia. She walked over to the young woman, who was standing next to Emma, looking more reluctant than frightened.

Mrs. Morgan's voice was gentle, "I'm very sorry for what my husband did to you, Miss! Please be assured that he will never come bothering you again!" It was a brief apology, but with determined sincerity. She turned to Emma next, "Thank you, Mrs. Knightley!" She smiled softly and laid her warm hand gently on Emma's, "It was truly a pleasure knowing you, Mrs. Knightley!" A long sigh, "But I think it's best that we take our journey home now." One more smile to Emma, both ladies curtsied, Mrs. Morgan turned, walked back to her husband and gestured him to follow her behind.

Within a few moments, the couple disappeared from Emma and Lydia's sight. Lydia continued to stare emptily at the invisible shadow of the couple, but was soon awakened by Emma's gentle voice.

"Mr. Hamley would have been very proud of you, Miss Lydia!"

Lydia was startled at the sound of the gentleman's name, searching for the origin, her beseeching eyes landed on Emma. She muttered, "You are?"

"I'm Mrs. Knightley." Emma smiled warmly at Lydia.

"Oh… Mrs. Knightley… of Donwell Abbey?"

Emma nodded, without taking her eyes off the young woman's face.

"You know Mr. Hamley well?"

Emma nodded again.

"But I thought Mr. Knightley was only introduced to Mr. Hamley yesterday?"

Emma smiled, searching for a reasonable explanation without revealing the true identity of the young 'gentleman'. "Mr. Hamley is my cousin living in London... Mr. Knightley had not met him until yesterday." Might not be the perfect explanation, Emma thought, but it should do for now.

Lydia nodded to herself.

"Mr. Hamley told me what happened to you… with Mr. Morgan that was… the last two days."

"I'm very obliged to Mr. Hamley's help…" Lydia looked down at her hands, "and encouragement!" Then she looked up at Emma and asked shyly, "Is Mr. Hamley still in Kingston? Will he be coming today?"

Emma smiled softly, "No, he had to leave… for an urgent family matter…" she saw the disappointment in the young woman's eyes!

If Lydia looked like she had fallen for Ian Hamley, Emma was truly sorry for it! She never intended for such to happen, but she could very well understand how a young woman would fall for a gentleman who rescued her from scoundrels like Mr. Morgan. After all, did Harriet not fall for George for his heroic rescuing her from the Eltons' humiliation at the Crown Inn Ball? She hoped she could find a way to let her down gently without ruining her tender heart!

"But before he left last night, he had asked me to come to bid you goodbye!"

"That was very kind of him!" Lydia said quietly.

"…And to remind you to be brave and stand up to the Mr. Morgans of the world - He would have been very proud of you – for having the courage to stand up to that man today!"

Lydia smiled softly, "I would not have had the courage if not because of what Mr. Hamley said to me!" She hesitated for a moment, "Will Mr. Hamley come back next year… I mean to the Kingston Fair?"

"Oh, no… I don't think he'll be coming to Kingston again… that is… because his family needs him in London!" Emma hated herself for having to lie to Lydia! "But… he will always remember Kingston fondly… that's what he told me..."

"I'm glad he found Kingston a pleasant place…"

"Oh! Yes, he sure did! And he really likes Kingston's apples… he said they were even better than Donwell's!" A little embellishment would not hurt, Emma thought.

Lydia finally laughed, "I think that is quite a stretch! Everyone here knows our local apples cannot compare to Donwell's!"

"Well… my cousin does have unusual taste, doesn't he?" Emma laughed, "I think he likes the fact that the Kingston apples have minds of their own," she lifted a playful eyebrow, "you see, they run away when you're not watching!"

Lydia giggled brightly - the gloominess on her face seemed to disappear completely!

Seeing Lydia burst into those lovely giggles was the very relief that Emma hoped for. She mused that it might take a few days, or couple weeks at the most, for this young woman to get over the feelings for her 'hero', her tender heart might ache now and then when she thought of him, she might remember Ian Hamley when she picked up an apple rolled onto the ground, she might even think of him at the sight of some fine looking young gentlemen, or heavens forbade, someone who looked like Mr. Morgan! But if the heart of Harriet - who, in only a matter of months, had transferred her affection seamlessly from Robert Martin to Mr. Elton, Mr. Elton to George, and then George back to Robert Martin – would be the representative of young ladies' tender and fickle hearts all over England; Emma was certain that Lydia's heart would soon heal and easily be stolen as soon as her next hero came along!

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**A/N**: So we say goodbye to Lydia in this story! Emma will be visiting Adam and Anna in the next chapter, which I'm not sure when I'll be able to post! :( Until then, I bid those who celebrate Christmas a very Merry Christmas! And to you all, a wonderful New Year! Cheers! :D


	24. Uncharacteristic

**A/N:** Thank you for your reviews, I really appreciate them - as always! :) Here's a new chapter...

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_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty Four: Uncharacteristic**_

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After her farewell with Lydia, Emma looked forward to visit her little friends Adam and Anna. Though it had only been two days, she had become quite attached to the two children, and it was a different sort of attachment than the one she had with her nieces and nephews - but she could not tell why! Was it because Adam and Anna had lost their mother at about the same age when she lost hers that made her feeling so close to them? Or was it because their innocence was such a stark contrast to the offensiveness of the scoundrels she encountered in this foreign town? Or could it be the motherly nature in her that made it irresistible to stay away from these two motherless children? Since George and her married, not a day went by she did not think herself the most fortunate woman in the world to have such a loving husband – to think that she once vowed to never married - What in heaven's name was she thinking? Nevertheless, it had been more than six months since their union, and Harriet had been with child almost as long, sometimes Emma could not help but wonder when it would be her turn to receive such wonderful blessings. She shrugged with a soft smile, perhaps the plan – nay - the _thought_ of having Henry inheriting Donwell might need to stay!

At any rate, she reckoned that she would treasure the friendship with Adam and Anna to the full for two more days before her journey home. But - there was a dilemma, wasn't it? It was Ian whom the children befriended, not Emma! Here she was, never would have thought that a simple disguise that already led to two confessionals, would lead to more 'lies' to protect the innocence.

She knew precisely where the two children would be and within a few minutes she had walked to where they were. She was now standing by a wooden post, only a few yards away from Adam and Anna, who were spinning tops on the ground by themselves at the moment. She stood there watching them for a short while, wondering, now that she was come as a lady not a 'gentleman', how their meeting today would turn out. Just as she was deep in thoughts, Anna looked up from the ground.

"Adam…" Anna tugged at her older brother's sleeve, "who is that pretty lady?" She pointed to Emma's direction.

Adam looked up and his eyes followed Anna's little finger. He took a long look at the lady, "I don't know, Anna."

"She looks like an angel, Adam!" Little Anna was awestruck by Emma's beauty.

"Anna, you've never even seen an angel before!"

"But Mama said all angels were very pretty!" Anna could not take her eyes off of Emma. "Who is she, Adam?"

He pondered some more, "I don't know!"

"I like her, Adam! Do you like her?"

"Auh… I supposed… But she is staring at us, why is she staring at us?" Adam rubbed his head, still wondering who the lady was.

At last, the lady slowly walked up to them and said to the little boy "How are you, Adam?" Then she turned to the little girl, "And how are you, Anna?" All the while, her tender voice and beautiful smile completely captured the children.

"Who are you? How do you know our names?" Adam asked curiously while Anna fixated her little eyes on Emma's angelic face.

"My name is Emma, Ian is my cousin. I'm very happy to meet you!" With playful twinkles in her eyes, Emma reached out her hand to shake the very young man's hand, and followed with a graceful curtsy to the little lady. The children found her formality very amusing - no one had ever treated them like a lady and a gentleman before – they were already spellbound under her charm!

"Is Ian coming today?" Adam had been missing his gentleman friend.

"I'm sorry, Adam! Ian is not going to come." Emma bent down to say sincerely to Adam.

"But he promised that he would come today!" It pained Emma to see Adam's disappointment. Fortunately, Anna was now fascinated with her pretty gown, she would devote her entire attention to Adam for now.

"Adam," she gently placed her hands on Adam's shoulders, "something urgent happened with Ian's family, he had to return home last night," again, a pang in Emma's heart to have to lie to Adam, "but he made certain that I would come today to say goodbye to you and Anna, and to tell you how much he would miss the both of you!"

Adam looked down silently, no doubt disappointed.

"He also told me how much your mother used to love reading and singing to you… I hope that I could be you and Anna's friend… read and sing to you… and play with you… if you would let me…" Emma asked pleadingly.

Adam's head hung low for a long while, then he suddenly looked up, his eyes meeting Emma's, he lifted his left eyebrow, compressed his mouth fully and twisted it into a curve, all the while not lifting his eyes off Emma's face, but keeping his silence as in deep thoughts – For a boy of seven, Emma mused, he sure looked like a certain shrewd bailiff who was about to negotiate an important tenant agreement; the image of William Larkins on this little boy's face almost made Emma burst into laughter! Thankfully, Emma was excellently schooled in manners; she was able to keep her serious composure, for she had every intention to win this important negotiation.

"So..." Adam finally unwound his mouth to speak very seriously, "do you know the_ 'Divine Songs'_?"

"Yes, very well!"

"What about '_Cobwebs to Catch Flies'_?"

"Very well indeed!"

"You know how to teach little girls to read?"

"I'll do my best!"

"Can you sing?"

"I think so!"

"Nicely?"

"You can be the judge!"

"Do you like hopscotch?"

"My favorite game when I was a little girl!"

"But you're not so little anymore."

"Still like it very much!

"Can you hop in that pretty dress of yours?"

"Absolutely!"

"Good!" Exasperatedly he glanced over at Anna, shaking his head, rolling his eyes, "Because Anna always trip over her dress when she hops!"

Emma stifled her laugh at Adam's very grown-up expression, "Don't worry, I will show her how to gracefully lift up her dress when she hops!" She secretly hoped that their negotiation would end very soon, for she could not contain herself for much longer.

One more calculating look on his face, Adam reached out his hand and said, "Yes, you can be our friend!" And the lady and this very young gentleman shook hands to seal their agreement in honor.

Little Anna was lost very early on during the negotiation, but she was not lost when her older brother told the pretty lady that she could be their friend.

"Waaah! We have an _angel_ friend!" She was literally bouncing up and down in between Adam and Emma. Once both her feet landed securely on the ground, she grabbed hold of her new friend's hand tightly, looked up at her sparkling hazel eyes with her own little bright ones, "You know… you are very _pretty_!"

At last, Emma could laugh freely and jovially. "Thank you, Anna! I must tell you that you are very pretty, too!"

"I like your _dress_!" Little Anna laid her small hand gently on Emma's gown, "It's pretty like _you_!"

"I thank you again, Anna, that was the nicest compliment I have had _all_ day!" How the simplest words of an innocent child could impress the most delightful smile on Emma's face!

"What should we do first?" Little Anna asked enthusiastically.

"Hopscotch!" Adam and Emma called out together as in one voice!

It was true that Ian was surely missed by Adam and Anna – how many times did they say Ian did this, or Ian said that, or Ian was very good at hopping, and Ian could speak in a very lady-like voice? But, as much as they missed their 'gentleman' friend, they had come to adore their lady friend just the same! What a wonderful time they had - they played hopscotch, they read, they sang together for… for… how long? Emma lost track – not only the time, but the fact that she was their friend Ian yesterday, but Emma today – it did not matter who she was - she was their friend! Emma could not help but be amazed at _Emma Woodhouse_, or _Emma Knightley_for that matter, could have had any friends she wanted if she chose, but being the friend of these two lovely children could only be a gift given to her, _not_ chosen by her! If only this world had more Adam and Anna, and fewer Mr. Morgan and scoundrels alike, this would be a far, far better place!

* * *

That evening, while George was still at his meeting, Emma finished supper which was ordered to bring to her at her chamber. She nibbled on some roasted pheasant and bread, which did not taste quite the same without her husband and Mr. Dickenson's company. At any rate, she was too full of the contentment from all that had happened during the day. How wonderful it was to witness Lydia finally found her courage to stand up to Mr. Morgan – knowing that the words of Ian Hamley, _her_ ownwords, had helped the timid young woman in some ways gave Emma the greatest satisfaction – let alone watching Mr. Morgan getting slapped hard on his face! The time with Adam and Anna was always precious, and now that they had accepted her in her natural form, she felt even closer to the two children. She could barely wait for George to come back to tell him all of these things, he always loved listening to everything that brought her joy; surely this would be no exception!

She looked at the time, it was nine o'clock, and she heard the click-click noise of the lock, the door opened - there he was, right at the time he told her that he would be back.

She literally leaped out of the sofa into his arms, "George! You are come back!"

The loveliest welcome any husband could ask for, George took Emma in his embrace long and tight, soaking in her delicate scent and warmth. He gently held her a little away to look at her entrancing smile, "Yes, Emma, I'm so glad to come back!" He pressed a tender kiss on her beautiful face.

She examined his face carefully while caressing his cheek, "How was the meeting? You looked fatigued!"

George smiled, "It was a long day indeed! But we had some very insightful discussion and now I think most of us understand the draining systems enough to do something about them at home."

"Then, it was worth the time!" Though she would have liked to keep him all to herself for the day, she wanted to be encouraging and show him what was important to him was important to her as well.

"Yes, it was worth the time – but I rather talk about _you_ than draining systems or anything else!" They were still in each other's arms and were not inclined to let go in any hurry. "Tell me what you did today; how you find the Kingston shore, was it as interesting as the Seaside's?"

Emma's beautiful hazel eyes were bright and twinkly, "No, I did not go to the shore, I did something _much_ more important!"

George was immediately alarmed, secretly hoping that she did not go to Lydia's. He was cautious, "What could be _much_ more important, Emma?"

"I went to see Miss Lydia!"

"You went to see Miss Higgs?" The smile on his face was lost.

But Emma had a knowing smile when she said, "You'll never guess what she did today?"

He was not interested in what she had to say next, "Emma! I told you not to go see her, and you promised me that you would not go!"

Emma's smile disappeared, right when she opened her mouth to speak George spoke, "And did you see Mr. Morgan at Miss Higgs'?" His composure stiffened.

"Yes…" Emma suddenly grew wary of their conversation, but she was certain that she could convince him that things happened for the better, "But everything was fine! You will be so proud of Miss Lydia – she finally had the courage to stand up to Mr. Morgan! George, isn't it wonderful?" They were out of each other's arms by now, but Emma laid her hands back on his arm again.

"Had I not told you that Miss Higgs was capable of taking care of herself? If you would have listened to me, you did not need to go today."

"But you don't understand, George, she did it because of what I said to her – because of my encouragement to her to stand up to Mr. Morgan!"

"Good, Emma." He said it dismissively, and firmly he continued, "But you should not have gone to her when you knew that Mr. Morgan would be there!"

"But, George, I did not go alone, I went with Mrs. Morgan!"

"What does it matter that you went with Mrs. Morgan? I do not think that poor lady could have any influence on her husband until the cows come home!"

"How could you say that, George? You hardly know Mrs. Morgan! She is a much stronger lady than you think and her husband does listen to her!" Emma had never heard George sounded uncharitable before, but he sounded too much of it just now.

"You are right, Emma! I don't know much about Mrs. Morgan, but I know enough of her husband to not want my wife to be in the presence of that man!"

"But George… I thought Miss Lydia needed help! Why was it so wrong for me to want to help her? You have lived your life helping people in need – why is it so wrong when I do it?"

"No, Emma! It is not wrong when you help those who are in need. But can you not understand that you do not put yourself in danger while helping others? And you promised me that you would not go to Miss Higgs today!"

"I promised you because I thought Mr. Morgan would be in the meeting today, but he was not. And Mrs. Morgan told me that he was getting his apples before their journey home… that was why I went. I was not in any kind of danger at all! I knew you would not approve of me going, that was why I brought Mrs. Morgan with me."

"Emma! If you knew I would not approve of you going, why did you even go _at all_?" Though he did not like that his voice was getting louder and louder, he could hardly help it. He paused, looked out the window, then turned and looked into her eyes, "What if something happened to you, Emma?" There was pain in his voice, "What if he injured you... what if he did something… something disrespectful to you…"

"But nothing happened to me! George, have you forgotten that I had rescued Miss Lydia twice from Mr. Morgan in the last two days? I'm not afraid of that man, and he could not have injured me in any way!"

"No, Emma, I have not forgotten that you had rescued Miss Higgs twice, nor have I forgotten that you were disguised as a 'gentleman' when you rescued her! But you were not Ian Hamley today, were you?"

"No… " Emma had decided to never use the disguise since her confession to George yesterday, "I only used the disguise to see your world because you wouldn't let me, I would never, never use it again… but you have to trust my judgment, George! I know what Mr. Morgan is about, he is only a coward - he runs off every time when someone confronts him… you saw that with your own eyes that night at the entry-way of the dinning-room!"

Emma had thought that the reminder of how Mr. Morgan walked away after George's unfriendly treatment would ease George's mind, but it had the complete opposite effect on him - The image of that man tried to take his precious wife's hand thrust him into an even greater agitated state of mind!

"That was _exactly_ what I was speaking of – can you not see, Emma? You were able to rescue Miss Higgs because he thought you were a 'man', he treated you entirely differently when he saw you as a woman!"

"That is not true, George! It did not matter that he saw me as a 'man' or a woman; I know he would not dare to disturb those who stand up to him. Look at Miss Lydia! She fought him off all by herself today, she stood up to him and he was as helpless around her today as she was around him the last two days! You have to trust that I would never put myself in any danger!"

"Emma! You have lived in Highbury all your life, you are inexperienced with the outside world; I don't know if I can trust your judgment!"

"George, you are being unjust! Only because I've lived a peaceful life in Highbury does not mean that I'm incapable of applying my mind and my senses! Mr. Morgan did not even come as close as within three yards of me today! And even if he did, I would never let him get close to me, let alone contact me in any form! Why can you not trust me? Why are you letting your imaginary worries taking over your good sense?"

"What? Imaginary worries! Imaginary is when there is absolutely no chance for something to come true – Mr. Morgan did not come from my imagination! He is a man, a real man, with flesh and bone, Emma!" His face was red and hot, "Oh, dear heavens! I can't even begin to think what he could have done to you!"

"How many times do I have to tell you that he could not have injured me in any way? I did not even lose a strand of hair because of that man - _He_ was the one who got slapped hard on the face by Miss Lydia!"

"That man most certainly deserved it! But, Emma, I do not care if he was slapped or not, I only care about you, I _cannot_ allow anything to happen to you!"

"But nothing happened to me!"

"No! Not this time! And there will _not_ be a next time, Emma!" His tone was so stern that it took Emma by complete surprise, "You _must_ promise me that you will never put yourself in such situation again!"

"But George, all I wanted to do was to help the young woman, and I knew exactly what I was doing…"

"Emma! I do _not_ want to hear your reasons anymore! I just want you to listen to me and promise me that you will _never_ put yourself in the same situation again!"

"George, you're being unreasonable!"

"I'm _not_ unreasonable! How could a husband who wants to protect his wife ever be unreasonable! And… you will do as I say… whether you want to or _not_!" He said it loud and clear.

If few minutes ago Emma had any tender patience for George trying to change his mind on his imaginary fear, it had all been vanished. Every morsel of her being rendered him utterly unreasonable and uncharacteristic; she was now furious with him!

"You are right, George! You're _not_ unreasonable! You are _worse_… you are far _beyond_ unreasonable!"

She ran into the dressing-room and slammed the door shut – leaving the room in complete silence.

George watched Emma flew inside the dressing-room and heard the loud bang of the slammed door. If he felt inclined to knock on the door and asked for her to come out, his agitation had completely dismissed it. He paced their small inn-chamber restlessly for a minute – _Unreasonable!_ Her word stung him too much – he opened their chamber-door, walked out, slammed it (with a little less vengeance than Emma did with the dressing-room door moments ago,) and walked into the corridor of the inn.

* * *

"_You are far beyond unreasonable!_" Her words followed him to the inn's garden. It was late and he was relieved that he was the only one there. Though the fresh clear air soothed his red hot face like a balm, her words still stung like a thorn in his heart. They had never argued like this, worse, he had never raised his voice at her the way he did tonight. But he was _not_ unreasonable! How could he? He could not and would not allow any harm to happen to her – he loved her, more than anything in the world, he would give his life for her! How could _that_ be unreasonable?

"_But what about her?_" The cool breeze of the spring evening seemed to finally brush his heart, not just his face. What about her? Her feelings, her intention! She was only doing what she thought was right. As she had put it - Did he not live his life by the guiding principle of helping those in need? Why should he be upset at her acting on the same principle? But he was not – not for this reason! He only wanted to keep her from harm's way, and if her safety was at stake while helping others – her safety _must_ trump over charity. Was this not plain good sense?

"_But was she __really __in harm's way__?"_ He felt like a fool battling himself with his senses, or the lack of them at the moment! Mr. Morgan was a villain, but her observation was sound: that man always stopped once confronted; and the Emma as he knew so intimately was not afraid of confronting someone when the circumstance called for it! Was she really in harm's way? It did not seem like she was! And admittedly, she had thought of the situation before stepping into it: she brought Mrs. Morgan with her - oh! Good heavens, how could he say those uncharitable words about that lady? Reckless! Unforgivable! Emma was clever, witty, and cautious – she might willfully subject herself senseless at times, but she was always sensible when the situation really mattered! Then why did he feel like the earth was tumbling down when he thought her in danger? Why could he not shake the image of Mr. Morgan looking at her in _that_ way? Why could he not keep calm and listened to her reasons? How could he let his fear in the size of mustard seed grew into a forest?

"_Was I __really __unreasonable?__" _He sighed. _"__Perhaps!__"_

* * *

Even from inside the dressing-room, she could hear the muffled noise of the slammed chamber-door! Emma wiped the angry-tears off her eyes, waited for another couple minutes to certain that the chamber was clear of his presence; she slowly opened the dressing-room door, peeked through the narrow opening between the door and its frame, - no George! A deep breath – but a sudden knock on the chamber-door hastened her heartbeats.

She walked out of the dressing-room slowly, asked rather reluctantly, "Who is it?"

"It's Betty, Mrs. Knightley."

She opened the door to let Betty in.

Betty saw her red swollen eyes and tear-streaked face, and grew concerned. "Are you well, Mrs. Knightley?"

"I am." Emma said almost inaudibly, could not look her maid in the eyes.

"Mrs. Knightley… would you… would you like help getting undressed… and would you like some warm water for washing up?" Betty had never seen her lively mistress cried before, her timid tender heart wished to help more than anything.

"Yes, I'd like that, Betty." Emma muttered.

Though there were no words exchanged between Betty and Emma during the entire time of Betty tending her mistress's washing and dressing, the silent presence of Betty was an unspeakable comfort to Emma.

At last, Emma said quietly, "That will be all, Betty." She climbed into bed as she spoke.

"Will you not wait for Mr. Knghtley's return, Mrs. Knightley?" Betty asked because her mistress always waited for her master.

"No… not tonight." She swallowed.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Knightley!"

"Goodnight, Betty."

Betty exited the chamber silently, and Emma covered herself from head to toe with the bedcovers.

* * *

She would not sleep though, could not! She heard George came into the chamber quietly. She heard him went into the dressing-room, she heard the sound of his washing, she heard him climbed into bed, she felt him reaching his hand almost touching her – but she stayed stone still, longing for his tender touch, but too upset with him to receive it!

He thought her asleep, not willing to stir her – she needed the rest - he could feel the dampness on her pillow, she had been crying! His heart ached to take her in his arms, but too ashamed by his own unreasonableness to dare to seek her! He slowly drew back his hand, rolled onto his back on his side of the bed, and shut his eyes, hoping his mind would clear when the sun came up again!

* * *

**A/N:** So glad that I made it to post an update before end of the year! I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter!

Wishing you a wonderfully happy New Year! Cheers :D


	25. The Aftermath

**A/N:** Thank you for your reviews, truly appreciate every one of them, and those who wrote them! :-)

This story has been about Emma's discovery of her mother's story which led to her mother's letters, which in turn led to her much needed guidance and teaching. Her mother's disguise had led her to see George's world, and what a true gentleman the love of her life was. And now, in the last three chapters of the story, I'm devoting them to the discoveries that are important to their marriage – nothing earth shattering or shocking, but it is discovery that will help their love grow, I hope. :) Marriage is a life-long journey, it's true that they know each other all their lives, but, I'd think, they still have much to learn about each other or even themselves. Thank you for bearing with me! :)

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty Five: The Aftermath**_

* * *

Though the morning came and the sparrows sang, the couple did not recover from their argument of the night before - Emma, in her lingered-anger at George, laid awake in bed for most of the night, could not fall asleep until the sun arose. And George did not fair any better - his usual clear-mindedness was lost in the gutter when he let his ungrounded fear took over his senses, the image of their argument reappeared continuously in his mind almost the entire night, any hope to reclaim his rational intellect in the morning seemed exceedingly dim.

They rose, they washed, they dressed without speaking to each other – perhaps it was more that Emma who resolved not to speak. George knew he was in the wrong, partly at least – he knew he overreacted, he knew unkind words had came out of his mouth in the midst of his renegade emotion, he knew he had wounded his beloved Emma's tender feelings when he so dismissively disregarded her charity towards Lydia and negated her judgment. Sigh! - But what was a man to do when it was so blatantly clear that his wife wanted nothing to do with him – not only she would not speak to him, she moved away when he came within a mere yard of her, she took pain to avoid meeting his eyes, she would not even look at him when he slammed his finger shutting the writing-desk drawer and scolded at the wooden fixture!

And breakfast did not go well either. They felt relieved that Mr. Dickenson was leaving the dinning-room as they entered in, or they would have been obliged to dine with the old gentleman and it would have been obvious to their friend that this happy couple was not on happy terms. Or did their troubled souls really escape the eyes of the acutely observant Mr. Dickenson? They did not know!

They sat at the table silently; George drank his coffee, barely ate his muffin, while Emma left her toast untouched, and kept stirring her coffee with her teaspoon mindlessly until, at last, George broke the silence.

"Emma… would you like to continue with your farming lesson today? We could study farm horses!" He regretted the way he spoke to her last night, and made every effort to sound gentle and sincere without sounding too affected.

She paused her stirring, looked up at him - He was elated, finally able to see her eyes!

"No." She said quietly, then immediately looked back down and stirred her coffee with her teaspoon again.

So that was end of breakfast and also the end of their conversation that morning before George took leave for the last day of the Kingston Fair. Needless to say there was no fussing from Emma over him before he left, she remained in their chamber instead of walking him out of the inn – feeling like he had been exiled from his happily married cocoon – he sighed at the realization of this Master of Donwell Abbey, a commanding figure and a magistrate, who had traveled all over England and visited the Continent, could speak of a vast array of subjects from farming, religions, politics to philosophy and astronomy, commanded a league of servants, laborers, tenants alike, had the respect of everyone he knew and many whom he did not even know - was casted out of his wit by his precious young wife!

As for Emma, how many times she longed to reach out her hands and let him take her in his arms, how much she wanted to let him looked into her eyes to see the hurt that he put there, and let him tell her that he did not mean any of those unkind words that he spoke to her last night! But - to allow all that – and so soon! - that would be stripping away the little dignity that she salvaged for herself when she decided to run into the dressing-room and slammed the door in his face! Impossible – she must not allow this – not yet!

Besides, she needed more time to think – the George from last night was not the same George that she knew all her life. Yes, they had had many debates in the past, often times on neutral subjects for the pure joy of presenting opposing views – for their intellects enjoyed a 'mind wrestle' (so they called it) from time to time. And, they did have an unfriendly argument over Harriet's refusal of Robert Martin's first marriage proposal – but that was of different nature, her foolish meddling of Harriet deserved his admonishment. Then, there was the disagreement over Frank Churchill's merits before the young man's arrival at Highbury – but that was different as well, for it was jealousy over a perceived rivalry that caused the liberal-minded Mr. Knightley to become prejudice. However, this time, Emma pondered, there was no foolish meddling – meddling perhaps from her rescuing Lydia, but if it was not honorable, it certainly not foolish; and there was no one standing between her devoted love and George, it must not be jealousy on his part – then why did he act so unreasonable, and so uncharacteristic of himself? Why would he not listen to her reasons, and dismiss all her observations and render her incompetent of sound judgments? How could he order her to stop following her senses… how could he treat her like a tyrant over his slave?

Hard as she tried, there were no answers to her questions - it seemed no use wrecking her brain conjuring up reasons for the unreasonable! She took a deep breath - decided that it was time to put away these troubled thoughts, because it was time to spend the last day at Kingston with Adam and Anna.

* * *

But troubled thoughts were difficult to put away, and troubled spirit followed one everywhere one went! It was indeed comforting to spend time with the two lovely children, but by far, it was not a cure. Emma gathered up the little strength she had from a non-existing night of sleep, to smile, to speak, to sing, and to play with Adam and Anna. She was thankful that they did not notice her unusually withdrawn countenance, as the children were still at a very young age. But after a while, she was in wanting of a small rest, she asked Betty to play spin tops with the children so that she could rest on the nearby bench while watching them silently.

She was staring at the two children emptily and thinking of George's irrational reaction when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Good morning again, Mrs. Knightley!" The voice was kind.

She looked up from her seat and saw the warm smile, "Oh! Mr. Dickenson… good morning!"

"My apology for running off in a hurry at the dining-room this morning, I had to meet up with another landowner from my town this morning, otherwise I would have joined you and Mr. Knightley at breakfast."

"I'm glad you didn't join us... I mean… I'm glad that you made it to your meeting… that was!"

"May I?" Mr. Dickenson gestured the seat next to Emma on the bench.

"Yes please, Mr. Dickenson." She said graciously and shifted to the side to make room for the old gentleman. Mr. Dickenson sat down next to her on the bench. They were both silent for a moment, watching Adam and Anna along with Betty played spinning tops on the ground.

"You really like these two children, don't you, Mrs. Knightley?" Mr. Dickenson broke the silence in a warm and sincere voice.

Emma looked at the old gentleman and smiled.

"You will make a wonderful mother someday!"

She smiled again – thinking she would love to be a mother someday – but today this subject was quite far from her mind.

"Mrs. Knightley - tomorrow we will part and take our journeys home, I want to tell you that it has been my honor to know you - especially witnessing how brave and kind you were with Lydia and these two children!"

Emma turned to look sincerely in the eyes of the old gentleman, "Mr. Dickenson, you are very kind! It has been my greatest pleasure to come to know you. You are not only the dear friend of my late father-in-law, and my husband, you have been a wonderful friend to me - the honor is truly on my side!"

They smiled cordially at each other, a short pause before Mr. Dickenson broke the silence again.

"Mrs. Knightley, have you ever noticed how much you and Mr. Knightley are alike?"

"I and Mr. Knightley?" Emma was surprised by the question.

Mr. Dickenson nodded smilingly.

"Oh no, how could I?" She found it amusing to think she and George were alike, "George… I mean Mr. Knightley is the Master of Donwell Abbey, everyone respects him, he's well-traveled, well-learnt, he's commanding…that is he's confident, he's steady, mature, thoughtful and honorable, he's the kindest and most generous man I know - and he's also the most sensible man I know, his judgment _is_…" For a while, Emma had forgotten their argument the night before and recounted all of her George's merits effortlessly, until the word _judgment_ came out of her mouth and she stopped abruptly.

Mr. Dickenson waited for a little while, "And whereas… you are… "

Emma smiled, "Whereas… I'm loved by everyone, of course, my father, my sister, my nieces and nephews, my brother John, Mrs. and Mr. Weston, Harriet, Miss Bates and Mrs. Bates… practically everyone in Highbury… except for Mr. and Mrs. Elton… but that's an entirely different story!"

"Is that all - that you're loved by almost everyone?"

"Well… my father thinks that I'm the cleverest person who ever walked on this earth!" She laughed, "And I believe most people do find me clever and lively, even Mr. Knightley agrees with that!"

"And I could not agree more!" Mr. Dickenson smiled warmly.

She raised her eyebrow and her hands on her waist, wearing a saucy smile on her face, "But Mr. Knightley used to tell me that I was a spoiled child, and he was right in his own rights, my father and my governess did indulge me, and they still do, but that is because they love me so very much!"

"Humph! A spoiled child - is that how you think of yourself?"

"Hum… being called a spoiled child never bothered me too much, just a little! Mr. Knightley said it only because he wanted to improve me," she giggled happily, "but he could say all he wanted, and it did not have the slightest effect on me! Think about it - someone loves you enough to spoil you, isn't it a wonderful blessing in a strange kind of way?" Emma's giggles were contagious, Mr. Dickenson laughed heartily with her.

Once their laughter subsided, her eyes still bright and shinning, Emma added, "And of course, I am fanciful too, just like my mother! My gentleman disguise was the perfect proof of me being a fanciful person! Don't you think, Mr. Dickenson?"

Mr. Dickenson nodded and laughed again, always amazed by this extremely charming young wife of his dear friend!

"And I think that should suffice to say that I and Mr. Knightley are _nothing_ alike!" She said it with a spirited conviction.

"Ah! But just because there is no obvious connection between yours and Mr. Knightley's personalities does not mean that you are not alike?"

Emma was intrigued. Her expression beckoned the old gentleman to elaborate.

"You said Mr. Knightley was generous – remember how you came to Lydia's rescues without a second thought? And also how you scared away the two despicable men at the cheese booth? If that is not generous and courageous, I do not know what is!

"And you said Mr. Knightley was kind – what about the way you have been treating these two children?" He glanced at Adam and Anna, "Was that not incredibly kind of you to take their mother's place for a few days to make them feel loved and special?"

Emma blushed and looked down, not sure if she really deserved the compliment.

"You also said Mr. Knightley was mature and honorable – the way you confessed your disguise so honestly and fully to me the other night, was it not a sign of maturity and honor on your side?" The old gentleman saw Emma blushed again. "You need not be humble, Mrs. Knightley – you are far more than the spoiled, fanciful person than you think; and I dare say, you have been this way for much longer than you realize!"

_Humble_ was never a word that anyone had used to describe Emma Woodhouse! In fact, Emma Woodhouse would have been basking in her own glowing had anyone called her generous, kind and honorable! So why would she be blushing upon praises on acts that she had indeed committed? She was not sure! Perhaps it was because no one had ever so plainly pointed out to her her good qualities in the past; perhaps she had often only seek praises on things that she did intentionally but paid no attention on those that she acted upon so naturally; perhaps it was the boredom that she grew up with which led her to commit senseless blunders, exaggerated her shortcomings and overshadowed the sensible acts that she often did but no one noticed; or perhaps, simply because she had indeed grown and matured in characters that made praises felt unnecessary or even undeserved!

Mr. Dickenson smiled sincerely, "I have said it already, but I will never grow tired of saying this Mrs. Knightley – I think you and Mr. Knightley are a match made in heaven – no wonder he would not give his heart to anyone for all those years – you two were truly meant for each other!"

Mr. Dickenson could praise her for her merits of being kind, generous, matured and honorable – but being the perfect mate for George was the best compliment Emma could ever ask for. She blushed beautifully and demurely - only if their argument from the night before never happened, she would have been floating in the air! She felt the urge of speaking with this kind and wise man of her troubles, though she would not speak directly to him about her argument with George, after all, it was a private matter of their marriage and she knew their love for each other would have this resolved in time. Nonetheless, Mr. Dickenson might lend her wisdoms that she needed to open her eyes to see through what she could not on her own. She gathered up her courage to begin her quest.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you for reading! :)


	26. Her Gentleman

**A/N**: At the end of last chapter, Emma was having a conversation with Mr. Dickenson and she was about to ask him about George. This chapter picks up from where they left off.

* * *

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty Six: Her Gentleman**_

* * *

"Mr. Dickenson… as you have known Mr. Knightley since he was a little boy… have you ever seen him uncharitable? _Or _being uncharacteristic?"

Though not surprised, Mr. Dickenson found Emma's questions quite unusual. He took in the questions and began searching his memories.

"Humph! As long as I have known Mr. Knightley, I have never seen him uncharitable Mrs. Knightley. In fact, George has been generous since he was a young boy." A sudden thought came to the old gentleman, "Has he ever told you what happened to his marbles?"

"_Marbles_?" Emma's face lit up, wanting to hear more.

"He was… humph… let me think… about ten years old. I had known him for couple of years already. His father started taking him to agricultural events at a very young age with the aim to mold him early on." The warm memories of Young George put a fond smile on Mr. Dickenson's face. "He was the most delightful little boy I had ever known, bright and intelligent, always polite and proper, with the best manners and a wonderful sense of humor!

"That year he came to the Kingston Fair, or… was it Brentwood… no, it was Kingston! We all came to the Kingston Fair that year. Young George even brought the glass marbles that Mr. Knightley had bought him when he was traveling the Continent. George had wanted those marbles for months, and was over the moon when he finally had them. The marbles were so important to him that he could not part from them; he would take them everywhere he went, they were in his coat pocket everyday wherever he would be!"

The image of George at his tender age obsessing with his glass marbles was beyond endearing to Emma and brought a beautiful smile on her face.

"That morning when Mr. Knightley and I were at a meeting with other landowners and farmers, Mr. Knightley had ordered his valet to never let his young master out of his sight - you see, Mr. Knightley would not have his son wandering the fairground all on his own," Mr. Dickenson gave Emma a knowing smile, "because Mrs. Knightley made Mr. Knightley promised her that their son would never be left by himself in any foreign place!

"But George hated to be followed around! At age ten, he thought himself quite grown-up and wanted to be independent - he would think of all sorts of ways to escape from the watchful eyes of Harry (Mr. Knightley's valet.)" Mr. Dickenson tried to suppress his amusement. "Mind you that Harry was not young - he was Mr. Knightley's own father's valet before he was Mr. Knightley's valet. I suppose you could imagine how easy it would be for a ten year old boy to dash away leaving the old servant looking for him frantically!"

Emma never knew that the sensible Mr. Knightley was ever mischievous in his life, now that she knew - she would have something to tease him with when he called her mischievous!

"After he dashed away from Harry, George came to a group of children, who must be about his age, hovering over someone. Even though he had promised his father he would not speak to strangers or befriend with children who were not friendly, his curiosity caught the better of him when he heard crying and shouting from the group.

"He walked closer to them and to his astonishment he saw several children taunting a little cripple boy." Mr. Dickenson shook his head and sighed, "It never ceases to sadden me that sometimes children could be so cruel!"

Emma's heart sank at the image of the scene.

"Young George stood there watching them in disgust! His father and mother had always taught him to be kind and loving to all people regardless of their ranks and situations. Although many in society thought that disabilities were curses from the Almighty, the Knightleys strictly abhorred it and taught their sons to treat all people with regards."

"Poor George, he must have been immensely bothered by what he saw!" Emma exclaimed.

"Indeed! And instead of leaving the poor child alone after their taunting, couple older children began to kick and punch the little boy!" Mr. Dickenson sighed again, and Emma felt sick to her stomach!

"Though his parents had strictly forbidden their sons getting into fights, George, who was always in perfect manners and obeyed his parents' every order, could not bear it any longer, he jumped in and tried to pull the two mean children away from the little boy…"

"Did George get into a fight with the children then?" Emma grew exceedingly concerned, "What happened? Did he get hurt by them?"

"Oh, no! He did not get hurt – you see, Harry saw the whole happening from afar, but his legs were not in good orders, so it took him quite a while to walk from where he was to where the children were. And by the time Harry finally reached his young master, George and the bullies were already rolling on the ground in the dirt! His clothes were all ruined and his face and hair covered with dirt - but he won the fight and scared off the two bullies for the little boy!"

Emma was relieved! Then she remembered, "Oh! But his father… how did his father react to what happened?"

"Well, Mrs. Kngihtley, we will get to Mr. Knightley's reaction in a moment… After the bullies and all the other children left the scene, George helped the little boy got up on his foot (he only had one foot and a wooden crutch to support him.) He sat down with the little boy and talked with him for some time before Harry pleaded him to return to his father." Mr. Dickenson paused and looked at Emma with sparkling eyes, "You would never guess what he did before he parted the little boy!"

"What did he do, Mr. Dickenson?" Emma was desperate to know.

"Remember the glass marbles he kept in his pocket?"

Emma's bright hazel eyes opened wide, she asked incredulously, "Did he give his marbles to the little boy?"

Mr. Dickenson grinned widely, "He did!"

"But I thought those marbles were precious to him!" Emma still could not believe.

"They were! But not as precious as the cripple boy who had just been bullied by other children – and he gave his precious marbles to the little boy - _who_ had nothing but a crutch!"

Emma's eyes were twinkling with pride! Yes – this was the George she knew all her life. He would never hesitate to give to those in needs, and he had done it without reservation since he was a boy! Her regard for him instantly sent her heart to him, wishing to be by his side to tell him how proud of him she was.

"You wanted to know Mr. Knightley's reaction, did you not?"

"Was he upset with George… for ruining his clothes and giving away his precious glass marbles?"

"By the time Harry took George to his father, we had all returned from our meeting. And yes! One look at his son's ruined clothes and dirty face, Mr. Knightley was furious."

Emma gasped, absolutely engrossed in this tale of Young George Knightley!

"He was furious, not for his son's ruined clothes, but for his son's getting into a fight. As I said, Mr. and Mrs. Knightley forbade their sons getting into fights. Though boys often do get into fights, the Knightley boys did not; and the Knightleys made it their rules to abhor physical violence. So George was punished for his crime – no supper for the night and he must study the first two chapters of the Book of Proverbs until he could recite them by end of the evening."

"That was severe! George had a good reason… would his father not listen to his reason?"

Mr. Dickenson sighed. "Only if Young George was willing to tell his father why he got into the fight, he would have been acquitted of his crime or at least gotten a lesser punishment, but he kept his mouth shut tight!"

"_What_? He would not tell his father… why?"

"Not only he would not tell his father himself, he made Harry swore secrecy to never tell a soul of why he got into the fight. And there was more - when his father discovered the marbles he bought him from the Continent were gone, all he told his father was that he had lost them!"

Emma wished, on one hand, that George would tell his father the truth to ease his punishment; but on the other, she understood he would never willingly tell others the good deeds he did, and she was amazed that he had been this way since he was a young boy!

"But it must have come out – otherwise how would you know this story yourself Mr. Dickenson?"

"Yes, Mrs. Knightley, it did come out – but it was not from the mouth of Young George himself! Harry might have sworn secrecy in front of his young master, but he took wages from the father of his young master, so when Mr. Knightley interrogated Harry after George was sent to his chamber, Harry immediately recounted everything that he saw to his master and the truth was revealed."

"Did Mr. Knightley rescind, or at least reduce George's punishment?"

Mr. Dickenson smiled, "Mr. Knightley respected his son's wish of not making his kind deed to the little cripple boy known. Although he desired to change it to a lesser sentence, he kept it at the same degree so that George would not know his secret was out - and I dare say even to this day George still does not know that his father knew!"

Emma smiled in silence admiring the wisdom of her late father-in-law in handling his obstinate son!

"But he did send supper to George so that his son need not go hungry for the night!" Mr. Dickenson added.

"Then George must know that his father knew?"

"Oh, no!" Mr. Dickenson grinned, "Mr. Knightley made Harry swore the secrecy of not telling George that the supper was sent by his father. And he knew Harry would never go against his master's wish. He told Harry to tell George that the supper was his own idea for he knew his young master did not commit any crime… And one wonders where George learnt his virtue of doing good deeds in secret!" Mr. Dickenson chuckled heartily.

The gloominess on Emma's face at the inn's dining-room as well as the grave look hung on her face when she was sitting alone on the bench had disappeared. The old gentleman was very happy to see the return of a charming smile on her beautiful face. He continued to address her next question.

"Mrs. Knightley, you also asked me if I had ever seen George being uncharacteristic of himself?"

Emma nodded nervously for they were getting back into the subject that troubled her in the first place – George's uncharacteristic unreasonableness from the night before!

"As you counted so accurately earlier, steadiness is one of George's marked traits. He has always been a delightful and pleasant-temper gentleman, nothing seems to put him out very much – the many years that I have known him, there were less than a handful of times I had seen him out of character."

Emma's beseeching eyes urged Mr. Dickenson to go on.

"Shortly after Mr. Knightley passed away, George had gone to an agricultural event with Mr. Larkins before his leave for the university. I believe that was the very first time I had ever seen him beside himself.

"For a young man who never ran out of subjects or opinions for discussion, he was extremely quiet those days. But then at times he would burst into anger and filled with emotion that he could hardly control!" Mr. Dickenson sighed, "George was very close to his father, his father's death must have thrown him into an unbearable state; it broke my heart to see how the young man suffered from his lost!"

Emma continued to listen intently in silence.

"Then a few years later, when his mother was very ill, we met again at an event. Because of his duty he must come, but his every desire was to be by the side of his mother and his younger brother John! I supposed he knew there was not much time left for his mother on this earth and he was torn apart for having to leave her even for a few days. The same surges of emotion appeared again, and with a great sense of helplessness… everyone would be out of character in the same situation… but when it was George - who was always delightful and steady - it was simply too disheartening to witness!"

Emma took a deep breath as her heart wrenched, not sure if she could bear to hear anymore of her beloved George's sadness!

"When his brother John decided to move to London, he had many apprehensions, too! John was his charge since both his parents passed away. He had loved him dearly, even though he was quite a young man himself, he tried his best to fulfill both roles as his older-brother and a father-figure. So when John decided to move to London after he married your sister, I could tell he bore a great sense of lost in his heart! He did well to hide it though – probably because he knew John would only be sixteen miles away and he could visit him as often as he desired.

"Then - the last time he was out of character … was… " Mr. Dickenson finally paused and looked Emma in the eyes.

Emma wondered why the old gentleman paused; she was intrigued beyond beliefs, dying to know what the last time was about!

Mr. Dickenson smiled archly, his eyes seemed dancing, which almost put Emma out of breath with suspense!

"The last time I had seen him out of character was at last year's Kingston Fair - he was so grave and gloomy that I could have mistaken him an entire different person - not the George Knightley whom I knew all his life!"

"What happened, Mr. Dickenson?" Emma asked urgently.

"He came to Kingston right before a certain _Ball_ was supposed to take place in Highbury, and because he thought that a certain _young lady_ was in love with a young gentleman, and he was so desperately in love with that young lady that he could not bear the thought of her in love with someone else!"

Emma knew _whom_ and _which _event Mr. Dickenson was speaking of! Her silky soft skin was flushed with the most beautiful crimson color.

Mr. Dickenson smiled warmly, "Mrs. Knightley – if you would have seen George then, you would agree that he was a completely different person now! He was so grave those days that he did not speak more than a few words at a time, nothing could make him smile or arouse his interest - not even his passion for agricultural improvement could revive his soul!"

Emma finally looked up to meet Mr. Dickenson's eyes, though feeling embarrassed by the subject, her curiosity moved her to ask shyly, "Did _he_ speak with you regarding his feelings?"

Mr. Dickenson chuckled, "Oh no! Mrs. Knightley, you know George better than I do, and you know he would never speak to anyone about his feelings!"

Emma smiled, nodded and looked down demurely again.

"Nonetheless, by how out of character he was, and the little intelligence he betrayed regarding the Ball, the young lady and the young gentleman, I could easily surmise what brought on the uncharacteristic demeanor of this very pleasant and steady gentleman!"

The crimson color on Emma's beautiful face just went a shade deeper.

Mr. Dickenson paused and searched his thoughts for a moment. While Emma was looking down, he examined her quietly - remembering the grave looks on the faces of his favorite couple at the dining-room in the morning, then the charming Mrs. Knightley's unusually withdrawn countenance, and the strange questions she just asked regarding her husband – the wise old gentleman seemed to put two and two together! His eyes shined when he spoke sincerely to Emma, "Mrs. Knightley… I have a theory regarding George… would you like to hear it?"

She looked up at him beseechingly.

"As you know, George has been the most generous gentleman all his life; material things are not so important to him - what is most important to him are the people he loves very much!" Emma nodded silently. "He would give up almost any material thing without hesitation when he knows he could help someone in some ways." She nodded again, completely absorbed. "But - when it comes to those he loves dearly, he becomes extremely protective of them - because they are infinitely dearer to his heart!" She smiled tenderly at the truthfulness of the statement – George had indeed protected her all her life! "To someone who is not attached to or possessive in terms of material things, the _incredibly_ strong feelings he has for the ones he loves, I suspect, could take him by surprise, obscure his senses _and _cause him to act uncharacteristically of himself!"

Mr. Dickenson paused, looked Emma in the eyes intently and slowly and distinctly he went on, "_Especially_ - when it comes to the _one __person _who is _most_ precious to his _entire_ being - Mrs. Knightley, do you know _wh__om_ I am speaking of?"

Emma's eyes met Mr. Dickenson's, tears began to well up in them - she understood the old gentleman and she knew _whom _he was speaking of! The unanswered questions that she pondered for so long earlier in the morning had at last found their answers. There was so much emotion in her heart that she could not speak even if she tried. All she could do was to blink away the tears that were about to fall on her delicate cheeks.

"Emma, would you come watch us play?" Little Anna emerged seemingly from nowhere and broke away Emma's eyes from Mr. Dickenson's.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and gathered up a beautiful smile for the little girl, "Of course Anna!"

Then she turned to face the old gentleman, placed her soft hand on his forearm gently, "Thank you, Mr. Dickenson!" The sincerity in her voice expressed an infinite gratitude that no words could ever convey.

"Would you please excuse me?" She stood up gracefully.

Mr. Dickenson immediately got up on his feet and bowed deeply, all the while with the kindest smile on his face.

While Mr. Dickenson took his leave, Emma took Anna's little hand in hers and together they walked back to where Adam and Betty were.

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**A/N**: Thank you for reading! :-)


	27. A Good Shepherd

**A/N**: Thank you so much for your reviews on chapter 26, truly appreciate them! Sorry it took so long to update, real life gets in the way. I know most of us are anxious to see Emma and George back together and I was going to include their make up in the same post, but it had gotten _way_ too long! I'm splitting it into two chapters and posting chapter 27 today, and chapter 28 in a day or two.

In the last chapter Mr. Dickenson gave Emma some very wise counsel and helped her discover the cause for George's unreasonsableness the night before. In this chapter, George is having his share of discoveries...

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_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty Seven - A Good Shepherd**_

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It did not matter how perfectly matched his favorite couple was, regardless of how long they had known each other and how deeply they loved one another; marriage, Mr. Dickenson reckoned, was a life-long journey, having been married for only seven short months there was still much for the two young lovers to learn about each other or even themselves. Like a man on a mission, the kind-hearted wise old man went searching for his long-time friend at the Farm-Horse Market after he parted Emma. He walked through the entire place, looking for his gentleman friend without success. Feeling disappointed, he was leaving the market just when he spotted George across the road; Mr. Dickenson immediately walked over to him.

"Ah, Mr. Knightley! I thought you said you and Mrs. Knightley would be studying farm horses today.' Mr. Dickenson greeted his long-time friend cordially at Farmer Mitchell's cattle market.

"Good afternoon Mr. Dickenson." George shook Mr. Dickenson's hand. His strained smile did not go unnoticed by his old gentleman friend.

"What a beautiful afternoon! It is ashamed that you and Mrs. Knightley are not out here together today."

George smiled ruefully as he replied, "I have some unfinished business with Mr. Mitchell today."

They were standing next to Patsy, the dairy cow that captured Emma's admiration and gave her the first milking experience two days ago. George gently patted the beast, looking subdued; his quietness was unnatural to his old friend.

Mr. Dickenson watched him in silence for a while. In an effort to rouse George's spirit he said, "I will never forget what little time it took Mrs. Knightley to learn to milk this lovely cow the other day!" He said fondly, "She's such a clever young lady - she took in all you taught her effortlessly, did she not?"

"Yes, indeed! Emma… Mrs. Knightley has always been clever; she's the cleverest person in her family, anything she puts her mind to she always excels!" Despite his gloominess, George's voice was filled with pride.

There was another long pause while Mr. Dickenson watched George patting and staring mindlessly at Patsy. The old gentleman observed his friend carefully for several moments before breaking his empty gaze.

"George…"

George snapped – he had not heard his old gentleman friend calling him in such a tone for a long time. It was the same warm tone that Mr. Dickenson used to call him when he was a young boy; the old gentleman was more like a beloved uncle to him then than the long-time friend now.

"Yes, Mr. Dickenson…"

"George… " said the old gentleman, looking at George kindly, "you know that this old man never likes to pry, do you not?"

"Yes, sir," George smiled, "but with me, you never need to pry - for you could read me like a book!"

Mr. Dickenson laughed, "I always like your sense of humor, George! And I hope you do not mind me reading you, do you?"

George shook his head as he smiled respectfully at the old gentleman.

With such permission, Mr. Dickenson went on, "I had never met as clever and lively a lady as Mrs. Knightley in my life; she's absolutely charming, and has a wonderful sense of humor just like yours…" George was listening with intense interest, and he agreed everything that Mr. Dickenson had said. "I reckon that if any young lady was to come to the Kingston Fair under the guise of a gentleman, _she_ would be the very one." An imploring look came on Mr. Dickenson's face, "But what I don't understand… is… _why_ she did it!"

George was surprised by Mr. Dickenson's question and did not know how to respond.

"You will have to forgive me for asking George," the old gentleman looked at George solicitously, "was it because you would not let her come in the first place?"

George felt embarrassed, nevertheless was obliged to explain. "But sir, Mrs. Knightley has lived a sheltered life in the countryside. People here are of different sorts - you saw what happened at the dining-room the other night, what Mr. Morgan attempted to do! If I let her come … I _feared_… " he faltered - reminded of how Emma described his fear - _imaginary_! He also saw the expression on Mr. Dickenson's face.

He took a deep breath, "You think I am being over protective of Mrs. Knightley, do you not, Mr. Dickenson?"

The old gentleman sighed, "George…"

"Yes sir…"

"Remember the Parable of the Lost Sheep in the New Testament?"

"Yes sir - it is about the shepherd who had a hundred sheep, but if he lost even one of them, he would leave his ninety-nine sheep to look for the one lost sheep until he found it."

"And what is the meaning of the parable?"

"It teaches us how precious we are in God's sight – that He would not want even _one_ of us to be lost!"

The old gentleman nodded contemplatively. "Pardon me for twisting the parable a little – Have you ever thought what it would be like if the shepherd only had one sheep?"

George thought for a moment. "Then the one sheep will be infinitely precious to the shepherd. I cannot imagine how the shepherd would feel if he lost his sheep."

"Have you ever thought of yourself being that shepherd?"

George was amused by the question, "I'm sorry sir! I had never put myself in the shepherd's shoe before."

"Try to imagine yourself the shepherd, with only one sheep. What would you do to keep yourself from losing that sheep?"

George pondered for a moment, "Sir, I would do nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yes sir – nothing."

"Would you not want to trap your sheep in a stall and not let it out and about so that it would not be lost?"

"Sir, yes, it would be one's first inclination to trap the sheep in a stall or a barn, feed it with water and grass to prevent it from wandering and be lost - but nature would not approve it."

"Why would it not?"

"For animals are not meant to be confined. Not only our pastures need animal grazing to regenerate, animals need to graze and roam freely in open meadows to stay healthy. Sheep is no exception sir!"

"But if you let that sheep, your _one_ sheep, wandering about, would wolf or fox not come snatching it away? Would it not be easily lost? After all, sheep is not known for being bright!"

George smiled, "But a good shepherd who truly loves his sheep would rather stand the risk of losing his sheep than to confine her and keep her from growing naturally…" Suddenly he froze.

It felt like a blow had struck his head and awakened all his senses! He knew why Mr. Dickenson asked him about the parable, he understood the reason he wanted him to think himself the shepherd with only one sheep, and he knew Emma _was_ his precious sheep. He heaved a long sigh – but _he _would not fit for a good shepherd!

How could he? He was too busy wrapping himself in the fear of anything might happen to his sheep - his most precious Emma – fearing what could injure her, or even take her away from him. There were times he wished she was kept in Highbury, at Hartfield, and never came to Kingston. He was touched by her surprise, elated to have her by his side, but if there was any chance of harming his Emma, he would rather keep her where she belonged!

"_Was her Kingston visit really such a bad idea?" _He had to be honest with himself.

Her experience in this town had not only opened her eyes to the outside world, she had proven herself a heroine by rescuing Miss Higgs twice and a worthy friend for encouraging her to stand up to Mr. Morgan. Did it not make her Kingston visit worthwhile? Was it not enrichment to her life and contribution to her growth?

"_What had happened to me?"_ His self-reflection had put him to shame.

For years he was the one who wanted to improve his old friend, who wanted her to grow into a worthy woman, and desired her to put her mind to good use rather than meddling other's romantic lives – surely he could not only mean her becoming an accomplished piano player who could sing flawlessly, as Jane Fairfax was, or being a scholarly young lady who read the classics and recited literary quotations perfectly!

He looked down at his boots as he rubbed his temple and relived the years past - when Emma was growing up, he was most impressed by her intelligence and open-temper, and had often wondered if not for her father's nervous disposition, for his fretting fear of her constitution, with her gentry birth and situation, she would have traveled many places, lived a very vibrant life. And for all her beauty, she might have been pursued by many well-matched suitors and snatched out of Highbury long before he even realized his own love for her! Or perhaps, if she was born to a farmer's family, with her cleverness and capable mind, she could have been the female version of the accomplished gentleman-farmer Robert Martin!

"_Oh! Good heavens! Si__nce when have I turned into Mr. Woodhouse?" _He groaned impetuously.

The images of their quarrel reappeared – how he disregarded her kind and brave charity to Miss Higgs, how he forbade her from ever again putting herself in situations that might injure her, and how _ridiculous_ he thought she was when she called his fear _'imaginary'_! But now – he regretted – he _was_ the _ridiculous_ one indeed!

It was true that Emma had lived under her father's roof and her father's rules for twenty one years and nothing could have been done to alter it. But now – though still living under her father's roof, now that she was his wife, he had the right to alter the situation. How could he even think of subjecting her to the same confined life? How could he be so _selfish__?_!

A good shepherd would let his sheep graze freely and watched over her from a distance; a good husband would provide to his wife's every need; but Emma was no ordinary woman – she was clever, witty, kind-hearted and lively – and her visit to Kingston had added courageous and righteous to the long list of her attributes, she deserved a husband who appreciated her mind and character and could help her blossoming into the remarkable woman she was meant to be!

He furrowed his brows and asked himself "_But how__?__"_ He pondered - of all the literature he read he had yet to come across instructions for being the kind of husband Emma deserved. He pondered some more – it did not take long for him to admit that for a start, he must keep his imaginary fear under control. _"Then what next?" _

He was not sure. His furrowed brows relaxed – he smiled - it was no matter, for he was prepared to spend his lifetime to find out!

'George…" Mr. Dickenson interrupted George's thoughts kindly – he saw the content smile that brightened the face of his long-time friend.

"Yes, Mr. Dickenson!"

"Would you like to know where Mrs. Knightley is at the moment?"

"You know where Mrs. Knightley is right now?" George asked eagerly.

Mr. Dickenson grinned, "If you would follow me, I will take you to her."

"I beg of you Mr. Dickenson!" George bowed gratefully to thank the kind wise old gentleman and bade him to lead the way.

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**A/N:** Thank you for reading! :) Hope you'll stay tuned for the next chapter!


	28. A Lady and a Gentleman

**A/N: **I finished sooner than I thought - here's chapter 28.

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_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty Eight - A Lady and a Gentleman**_

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Mr. Dickenson led George to within ten yards of where Emma, Adam and Anna were. They were sitting on a bench with their heads down – it appeared that Emma was reading to the two children. There must be pictures in the book which she was reading from, for all three of them were completely captured, did not notice someone was standing nearby watching them.

With a warm handshake and a content smile, Mr. Dickenson bade George goodbye quietly, leaving his friend to himself admiring his beloved wife from afar. George was standing behind a wooden post only few yards away from the unsuspecting occupants of the bench. He stood there silently watching them, enraptured by the loveliest sight he had ever seen! His precious Emma so kind and loving to the children, in spite of being too young to be their mother – the way she laid her hand tenderly on the little girl's shoulder, the way she turned and smiled affectionately to the little boy, the way she looked down to read and then looked up again to savor the amusement in the children's eyes had made his beautiful Emma even more divine – it was like a heavenly portrait of a mother loving her children!

"Good afternoon, Mr. Knightley!" His gaze was interrupted by someone's quiet greeting.

He turned and saw Betty, and instantly put his forefinger to his lips to bid Betty not to make another sound, that shocked Betty to clasp her hands to her mouth.

He said lowly, "Good afternoon, Betty." Keeping his voice even lower, "Has Mrs. Knightley been here all along?"

Betty nodded, her hands still covering her mouth.

"Betty, you may return to the inn, I will escort Mrs. Knightley for the rest of the day."

"Yes, Mr. Knightley!" Betty whispered, curtsied to take her leave.

George stood there alone again, admiring the beautiful portrait contently.

Suddenly the little girl looked up and spotted him. She stared curiously at him for a moment, and he returned her curiosity with a kind smile and a nod.

"Emma" Anna tugged at Emma's shawl, "Who is that?" Her little finger pointed to George's direction.

Emma lifted her head, her eyes followed little Anna's finger; to her surprise, it was the very person she had been thinking of all day. Their eyes locked – her surprised yet angelic face slowly turned into a loving smile that took his breath away. He fluttered and gazed into her eyes tenderly; his face, too, had broken into a smile that was filled with the deepest regard and tenderest love.

Her entrancing smile beckoned him to come near. With a few long strides he was in front of her, taking her delicate hand into his as she looked up at him reaching for his hand lovingly.

"Emma," Little Anna asked again. "Who is he?"

"Children," her gaze never left his, "this is my husband Mr. Knightley!" Her affectionate voice mingled with her tender smile assured George that he had been forgiven for his folly.

"Mr. Knightley, please meet Adam and Anna!" Emma said playfully.

George knelt down to greet the two children at their eye level.

"Since you are calling Mrs. Knightley by her Christian name, why don't you call me George?"

"I'm very please to meet you Adam!" Adam's small hand seemed to have lost in his much larger one, but he shook the little boy's hand as if he was a grown-up gentleman.

The young boy seemed a little intimidated by the presence of such tall fine looking gentleman, but George's friendliness and the kind and respectful way he spoke to him had won him over instantly. Adam returned his handshake with as firm a grip as any seven year old boy could muster. "Good afternoon sir… ah… ah… George!"

He turned to the little girl and spoke gently to her, "What a pleasure to meet such a pretty young lady! I'm very please to meet you Anna!" He stood up and took a deep bow in front of the little girl.

Emma had always adored the gracefulness in her George, there was so little gallantry in his manner - he was all kindness and sincerity. But the way he just greeted the little girl – Emma mused - if Anna were ten or fifteen years older at the moment, she would be falling head over heels over the very gallant Mr. George Knightley!

"Would you _ladies_ and _gentleman_ mind if I join you?" He asked playfully to the three of them and begged for a seat next to Emma.

"Why, of course!" Emma giggled and shifted to make room for him.

George sat down next to Emma with little Anna on his left and Adam on the other side of Emma.

Now that everyone was settled, Emma resumed her reading, which was interrupted only a moment later.

"George…" little Anna tugged at George's sleeve.

He looked at her curiously, bent his head and whispered, not willing to disturb the others, "Yes, Anna…"

Little Anna frowned and spoke into his ear, "I cannot see…" pointing at the book on Emma's lap.

"Oh! Pardon me Anna!" His apology was sincere. Nonetheless, no matter how much he adored little Anna and how sorry he felt, George was not about to give up his seat next to his darling wife. He felt guilty though, and came up a solution, "Would you like to sit on my knees?" asking very quietly.

Little Anna nodded. He lifted the little girl off her seat effortlessly and placed her gently on his knees.

"Is this better?" He smiled and whispered.

Little Anna turned her small person around to look up at him with her bright little eyes and gave him an enthusiastic nod. At last, both the gentleman and the little lady exchanged their very satisfied smiles and returned their attention to the story.

If moments ago the image of Emma, Adam and Anna sitting together had made a heavenly portrait of a mother and her two children, the sight of George with little Anna on his knees, Emma leaning close to him, and Adam next to Emma looping his hands through her arm – this sight, without a doubt, was the perfect expression of a beautiful family!

The time for Adam and Anna to return to their father had finally come. With teary eyes, Emma held the children in her arms for sometime before saying goodbye to them and letting them went on their way. Though George had hardly spent as much time with the children, he too, was very fond of them. He said his farewell to them in his gentlemanly and affectionate manner. As they stood there watching the shadow of the two lovely children fading into the distance, George wrapped Emma's shoulders tenderly in his arm and handed her his handkerchief for her tears.

"I am very proud of you, my most beloved Emma!" He said feelingly.

She wiped her teary hazel eyes and looked at him quizzically.

"You have been so kind to Adam and Anna. I could tell they were _incredibly_ attached to you!"

Her weeps had now turned into sobs.

He took the handkerchief from her hands to wipe her tears, resting her head on his chest, stroking the back of her neck, "You will make a wonderful mother to our children someday!"

Emma looked up, blinked her eyes until the tears were gone, sniffled and breathed. A saucy smile turned up on her face, "Humph!" her hands on her hips, "You know, funny you should say that – have you been speaking with Mr. Dickenson today?"

George smiled but did not answer.

"Emma…" He said softly.

"Yes George…" She wondered what he was going to say.

Looking down, he took her hands into his – he had a solemn look on his face – rubbing her delicate fingers one by one restlessly searching for the right words to say.

"Yes George…" she said lovingly, prompting for him to go on.

"Emma… would you ever forgive me… for my unreasonableness last night… for being the _idiot_ that I was to allow my imaginary fear to blind my good sense?"

She stared up at him – the incredulous look in her eyes brought him to a small panic! "George – how _dare_ you call yourself an idiot?" She lifted an eyebrow and put on an exasperated tone, "Are you calling me an idiot then? You should know that it takes one to marry one!"

Emma's adorable giggles halted George's panic and gave him his much needed sigh of relief!

But just when George barely had time to absorb his relief, a naughty mirth came onto Emma's face. Her mouth twisted into a wily curve, her eyes shining roguishly and her fingers drumming on his lapel. "_Well_ – my dear _George_ – are you truly sincere in your repentance?"

He nodded cautiously.

"_Very well!"_ still with the same sly look on her face, holding up her forefinger in front of him, "There is _one_ thing I would like you to do to show your _sincerity_…"

He rubbed his chin with concerns written all over his face, asked suspiciously, "_What - _is it Emma?"

Emma wiggled her finger beckoning George to lean close as she stood on the tip of her toes laying her hands on his shoulders to steady herself; she whispered something into George's ear that made him frown.

"_What? _Are you sure Emma?" There was an agonizing look on his face.

She looked him straight in the eyes and nodded determinedly.

"Is there not _any_ other way for me to show my sincerity?" He pleaded earnestly.

The rascally smile that hung on the corners of her mouth and the incredibly mischievous sparkles shone in her eyes had said it all!

"Well…" he took a long sigh and looked defeated, "I shall pay for my offense tonight!"

Emma clapped her hands with joy and let her rascally smile launched into a series of giggles.

Underneath her melodious laughter, in the depth of her heart, Emma knew that her beloved George really did not deserve punishment of any sort, for whatever he had committed was committed out of his love for her, and she had already forgiven him long before he found his way to her and the children. Nonetheless – she rejoiced - when the perfect opportunity landed so freely in her hands, she could not possibly let it slip away so easily, could she?

As for George, after a morning of dreadful silent treatment, to be able to hear his Emma's lovely giggles was enough to send him off to the moon. Unjust seemed the price of his redemption, no matter how big his offense - George mused - surely he did not deserve the sentence! Nevertheless, he was too exuberated to see the blissful happiness fully restored between him and his precious wife; this happily married gentleman had no intention to waste his time agonizing over his punishment until the time came!

"Emma, there is still time left for the day, would you like to continue your farming lesson?"

"Absolutely!"

So for the rest of the afternoon, Emma and George divided their time between the Farm-Horse Market and the Farm-Oxen Market. The sight of a beautiful genteel lady walking arm in arm with a tall fine looking gentleman had attracted admiration and envious stares from many passersby. While many were awe struck by the beautiful couple, puzzling over why they would rather waste their time at farm-stock markets than visiting the pretty Kingston shore, even more were shocked by what the gentleman was telling the lady – For they heard the gentleman told the lady how much farm-oxen was preferred over farm-horses as both were equally tractable, but farm-oxen could be purchased and maintained at much less expense; and that farm-oxen had less air and spirit than farm-horses, but just as easy to train to obey the voice of its master; and that the dung of oxen made excellent manure which always improved the soil, while horse-dung burnt where it fell and hurt the pasture. Why on earth would a beautiful lady need to know about oxen and horse's _dung_ – had all the eavesdroppers bewildered!

* * *

It was the end of the day, but there was one last stop George wanted to make before their returning to the inn to meet Mr. Dickenson for supper. They left the fairground and walked leisurely near the shore until they reached a very small shop. George's eyes lilted as he opened the door for Emma.

"Please mind your step Emma!" There was a small step raised above the foot of the threshold. Emma did as George bade but as soon as her eyes lifted to look inside, she was in awe!

The store was very quiet; there was no one in sight – but it was filled with shelves and shelves of glittering porcelain wares and figurines. The amazing collection of fine teacups and saucers, elegantly crafted three and four legged sauceboats, and beautifully painted bowls and plates kept Emma turning her head countless times; and the numerous figurines in all forms, sizes and characters had dazzled her eyes so much that she almost felt dizzy.

George noticed several pieces had caught Emma's eyes particularly – the figure of a flowergirl with spring blossoms in her apron and a basket on one arm spilling over with grapes, a group of three children playing Hazard on a tree stump with a seated pug by their knees, a Levantine girl dancing on a scroll moulded base with golden floral and green leaf bocage, and a pair of male and female candlestick figures draped with strings of beautiful summer garland, holding up sconces in shapes of tulips - all were painted in the most vibrant colors and decorated with the finest intricate details.

"Oh! George! These are amazing!" Emma gripped at George's arm in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me about this store before?"

"Emma," taking delight in her amazement, he smiled and said, "I wanted it to be a surprise. I know how much you love figurines! Come!" He took her hand and guided her through the small space of the shop.

"Recognize this?" He pointed to a set of fine porcelain teacups with loop handles, decorated in polychrome enamels with flowers under a red line border.

"Oh yes! You gave the same set to me and Papa two years ago after your return from Kingston. Papa and I loved the set so much that we have used it for tea every night since then!"

Still holding onto her hand, George led Emma to another corner of the shop. "What about this? Remember this?" Pointing to the porcelain bonnethead doll with a sweet painted face and blue eyes, her hair was light orange and her bonnet was painted lavender.

Emma gasped. "Of course! This is the same doll you gave me on my sixteenth birthday – except mine has hazel eyes and blonde hair with a light green bonnet!"

"I had special ordered it to be painted with your hazel eye and blonde hair colors, and I thought the green bonnet would go well with you hazel eyes!"

"Oh George! You special ordered it just for me?" Smitten by how George had thought of the littlest details even long before their marriage, Emma hugged his arm, pressing her face against it.

George simply smiled, allowing himself to bask in her dazzling eyes in complete contentment.

"Emma, since we are here, would you like to choose something that you like to take home?"

"I would love to!"

Knowing how much Emma loved all things exquisite, George had thought that it would take her at least two more rounds at the shop to decide what she wanted, but to his amazement, without even a mere thought, Emma had set her heart on a set of teacups - the same set that he bought her and her father two years ago.

"Why Emma?" He was curious, "I had thought that you would pick the beautiful flowergirl or the three children with a seated pug… why the teacups?"

She looked up at him guiltily. "Since we have married and you moved to Hartfield, every night when we take tea I have been regretting that Papa and I use the same set of teacups but you do not!" She sighed "You know how Papa dislikes any changes, I was afraid to switch to a different set, but I want all three of us to use the same set! And now …" she picked up the teacup with bright smiles, "you, Papa and I will have the same set of cups for tea. And there is even a spare in case we break one!"

She saw the adoring smile on his face and felt shy. "You must think me silly, George! You practical kind would never pay attention to such sentiment – but I do! You could think me a silly goose all you want, but I do prefer the three of us use the same set of cups."

His adoring smile turned admiring. "My most beloved Emma, I do not think you silly, not in the least! But if you are _ever_ a silly goose, you are _my _adorable silly goose!" He lifted her chin and bent his head, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers endearingly.

"Since you have chosen the teacup for me, why don't you pick something for yourself?" He wanted so much for her to be happy.

"Oh! May I?" Emma was so excited that she darted off on her search immediately.

This time it did take her two rounds at the store to decide what to get – the male and female candlestick figures.

"These candlestick figures are indeed lovely! So tell me why you pick them?"

"Well – the weather is approaching far too warm for a fire at night! Instead of a fire for our nightly chat, we will light candles on the mantelpiece when we chat. These two candlestick figures are so beautiful," she smiled brightly, pointing at the male figure "this is you," then at the female figure, "and this is me! Are they not perfect? It will be _so_ romantic!" She closed her eyes to picture the lit candles in their chamber at Hartfield and a dreamy smile crept up on her beautiful face.

As a country gentleman, George could never see romance in candlestick figures no matter how many times he looked at them, but he adored his fanciful Emma's vivid imagination. The dreamy expression on her face at the moment gave him great amusement! He shook his head, poked at her nose tip playfully, wearing an arched smile he teased, "You and your romantic thoughts!"

They finally heard some noises - someone emerging from the backroom of the store; George assured Emma that it was the owner of the shop and they walked up to him to make their purchases.

"Ah! George, I thought you would not come back!" Said the owner – a man of George's age, perhaps a year or two younger, not tall, rather thin, his pleasant face was wearing a wide grin which some might think made him look rather silly, while others would agree that only but a very content man could wear!

"Philip! I told you I would come back, have I ever not kept my words?" George returned the owner's wide grin with a big grin of his own.

Emma was taken aback by how friendly George and the owner were to each other. She reckoned that George had been making purchases from this store for many years, so they must have known each other long. Nonetheless, she wondered, why would George and this man be on such familiar term to address each other by their Christian names?

"This must be Mrs. Knightley?" The man asked excitedly.

"Yes Philip! Please meet Mrs. Knightley." George turned to Emma, "Mrs. Knightley, please meet Mr. Frye."

Mr. Frye immediately walked from behind the store counter to greet Emma formally. To Emma's astonishment, Mr. Frye only had one leg and a wooden crutch to support him!

She gasped inwardly, _"Could he be the little crippled boy in George's marble story? They have been friends ever since!" _

Emma watched Mr. Frye bowed to her with ease even with only one leg and a crutch. She returned his warm greeting with a graceful curtsy.

"It is such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Knightley! George and I had been friends since we were young lads, for years he had come to Kingston as a bachelor and I had thought he would never marry! I practically jumped when he told me he finally had himself a wife two days ago!" The warmth and the little intelligence from Mr. Frye assured Emma that he must be the little boy.

"And you know," Mr. Frye lowered his voice, "I used to tease him ceaselessly!" He gave Emma a playful grin.

The unpretentious and friendly demeanor of Mr. Frye had warmed Emma to him immediately - she found him amusing and said, "Oh Mr. Frye, so you enjoy teasing Mr. Knightley too?" She gave a saucy smile to George.

"Absolutely – as I had said numerous times, even his one-legged friend' Mr. Frye lifted up his crutch and pointed to his one leg with it, "had found himself a wife, so I could not understand for the life of me what he was waiting for!" Mr. Frye said it with so much animation that he almost lost his balance standing on one leg with his crutch in midair.

Instantly, George and Emma both reached out their hands to help Mr. Frye steady himself. The saucy smile Emma had only a moment ago disappeared – George could tell she felt uneasy at Mr. Frye's remark.

"Philip!" George said with a teasing tone, "Did you not promise me that you would not embarrass Mrs. Knightley when you meet her? For not everyone would understand your humor!" George smiled warmly at his friend.

Mr. Frye felt sheepish, "Oh! Pardon my rudeness Mrs. Knightley, I would never purposely embarrass anybody, let alone the missus of my good old friend!" He rubbed the back of his neck with a rueful smile, "I'm so used to laughing at myself for my own amusement that I have forgotten not everyone understands my odd humor!"

All the while when Mr. Frye went on apologizing, Emma smiled at him graciously to assured him that she was not offended at all.

"You see, I was born with only one leg," pointing at his one leg again with his free hand instead of the crutch, "I used to be bullied by other children and got very upset and angry. Then one day a friend came along," he shot George a knowing smile, "and helped me out of my misery and made me understand that I was just as precious as all the other children in God's sight, that others might hurt me from the outside but they could never hurt me from the inside if I would not let them! "

If Emma had ever thought that she could never be more proud, more in love with George – she was mistaken! The fact that George not only gifted his precious marbles to the little crippled boy, he also gave his friendship and shared his wisdom with the boy had made Emma fallen even deeper for him!

"So I reckoned that if I could laugh at myself then others might not find it amusing to laugh at me – and it worked!" Mr. Frye went on enthusiastically, "No one laughed at me anymore – but there was a drawback…" grinning boyishly, "My odd humor had become such a part of me that I sometimes find myself embarrassing people unintentionally!"

Emma's eyes met George's and saw his nod and loving smile which gave her the assurance to respond. She smiled sincerely at the self-contented man, "Mr. Frye, your humor is kindly taken and there is no need for any apology! I think it is an admirable quality to be able to laugh at one's self – for all of us fall short in one area or another, being able to acknowledge where we fall short is the beginning of our effort to improve."

Emma remembered how Mr. Knightley used to encourage her the same way when she felt frustrated with her piano practice; though, she mused, his remarks to her then sounded more like criticism than encouragement, she knew now that it was her pride that misinterpreted his good intention. She went on warmly, "As for me," smiling softly, "I am always laughing at myself on how blind I am!"

"Blind?" Mr. Frye was astounded, "You are not blind Mrs. Knightley!"

Emma giggled, "No, my eyesight is fine, Mr. Frye! I meant it in a figure-of-speech way: that I was too blind to see my own faults which led to many blunders!" she glanced at George shyly and quietly she said, "And I was also too blind to see my own heart!"

Mr. Frye saw the way Emma glanced at George and burst out, "Oh! So _you_ were the reason why George waited so long!"

Emma blushed furiously and looked down, while Mr. Frye laughed and enjoyed watching the sheepish face of his good old friend George colored!

After a very pleasant conversation with Mr. Frye, George and Emma bade him a heartfelt farewell and went on their way back to the inn. Emma found herself unable to suppress anymore.

"George…"

"Yes, my dearest Emma…"

"How did you know Mr. Frye?"

"I have been making purchases at his store for years."

"Yes… but he said you have known each other since you were both young boys. How did you meet him?"

"Humph. You know that my father used to take me to agricultural events since I was little, he took me to the Kingston fair when I was ten and that was when I met Philip." He sounded indifferent.

"But he called you by your Christian name!"

He laughed, "You know my love - one does not need to marry one to call one's Christian name!"

Emma nudged his arm to protest – even now he still teased her for vowing that she could never call him anything but 'Mr. Knightley' before they married.

"Ouch! Emma! That hurts!"

"You deserved it! I'm serious, how did you two meet?"

He shrugged. "Just like how any little boys meet, nothing worth mentioning."

"_Nothing_! _Really_?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Really – nothing." He answered dryly.

She compressed her mouth into a single line, not satisfied with his answer.

"Why did you ask Emma?" He began to wonder.

"_Nothing_!" It was her turn to sound indifferent.

"Humph! Nothing? Are you certain?" Now his curiosity was piqued.

"If you would tell _me_… I would tell _you_!" She hoped her bait would work.

"But there was nothing worth telling!" He was holding his ground.

"_Fine_! Do not tell me!" She wrinkled her nose, lifted up her chin – pretending to be mad at him – and hastened her steps to walk ahead of him.

"Wait, Emma!" One long stride and he caught up with her, holding her back by her arm.

"I did a small service for him…" He muttered.

She perked up! "A small service?"

"A _very_, _very_ small service." He would say no more.

"What was it?" She poked.

"Emma my dearest," he looked into her eyes sincerely, "you know I always tell you everything if it is worth telling!"

Emma nodded, returning his gaze with guilt – she wanted so much for him to tell her that Mr. Frye was the little boy he rescued, and for whom he gave up his precious marbles! But she knew she must learn to respect him for believing his heroic act was not worth telling no matter how badly she wanted him to confide in her. She was grateful that he was even willing to say as much.

"A very, very small service, huh?" She said it as casually as she could.

"Hum, hum." He drew her hands through his arm and they started walking again.

She decided to stop pressing him, clasping his arm even closer, she happily conceded, "If you say it is not worth telling, it is not!"

And as the purple clouds hung high over the velvet orange sky, reflecting the dim glow of the resting sun; and the shimmering blue water like droplets of silver swaying carelessly over the river, Emma twined her hands through George's arm cozily, the beautiful couple strolled lazily the pretty Kingston shore in the last hour of the day, whispering sweet nothing to each other and filling the tranquil shore air with intimate laughter until the sun quietly descended beneath the horizons.

* * *

Their supper with Mr. Dickenson was as delightful as the previous ones. The only difference was that this was their last meeting before their journeys home the morrow, a little sadness was mixed into the pleasant conversations in this very enjoyable evening. George and Emma both thanked Mr. Dickenson wholeheartedly for his wise counsel which helped opening their hearts' eyes to see what they could not see on their own. Mr. Dickenson entreated the couple to visit him in Rochester and assured them that Mrs. Dickenson would be overjoyed to receive them if they ever could free themselves for a visit; the old gentleman even vowed that his beloved Mrs. Dickenson was far wiser than him, because women had the tendency to out-wise men as they aged!

Though George always had the greatest respect for his old gentleman friend, what he just heard almost caused him burst out laughing – for Emma, he mused, had already given more than enough heedless advices to unsuspecting acquaintances for her entire life time, the truth (or rather the lack of it) of what Mr. Dickenson said was just what his Emma needed to grow her head into an insufferable size!

While respect Emma certainly had for Mr. Dickenson, she found for the first time this wise old gentleman was completely mistaken – for women need not waited until they were grey and wrinkled to be wiser than their male counterparts, as they had always been wiser since the beginning of time: After all, Adam was the one who ate the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil just because Eve told him so – what gullible creatures men were – yes they were for certain; obedient - oh perhaps sometimes; but wise - she thought not!

* * *

They had retired to their own chamber. Betty completed her service to Emma's washing and changing and bade her master and mistress a pleasant night. George had washed and changed and was sitting on the sofa, waiting helplessly for the arrival of his punishment while Emma emerged from the dressing room with a script in her hand.

She smiled mischievously and sat down next to George, waving the script in front of him.

He saw the printed script and sighed, "I did not think that you would bring _th__is _with you!"

"Why! I was going to read in the carriage… did you not want me to read _more_?" She teased.

"Yes, but not _this_!" He rolled his eyes.

"But this is literature too!"

"I could never understand what you ladies see in his work!"

"That is because you are not the _romantic_ sort!" She patted his cheek playfully.

"No Emma – it _is_ because I do not approve of how Bryon lives his life!"

"But it is his work that we like, not his life." She explained, hoping to do justice to her sex.

George cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. "Emma, how could one's life be separated from one's work? A man's life _is_ his work – how a man lives his life reflects his moral, his stands, his beliefs. And a man's moral, his stands and beliefs guide his mind, body and soul - thus his _work_. A man's corrupted life corrupts his mind and therefore corrupts his work!"

"George!" Emma called out his name firmly. "We have had the same discussion several times before! While I do not disagree with you," he looked at her with hopes, thinking he might have talked his way out of his punishment, then he heard she said, "do _not_ think you could talk your way out of your punishment!"

His hopes vanished in thin air.

Emma pouted and looked at him seriously. "You made a silly blunder and you promised me that you would show that you were sincere in your repentance! You always read me Milton and Isaac Watts but you never read me any romantic..."

"I read you Shakespeare - that's romantic!" George interpolated.

"I was not finished! But you never read me any romantic _poetry_!" Emma shoved the printed script to his chest and demanded, "You are reading _this_ to me tonight!"

George took the book in his hand and made a face, "_Fine_!"

A long sigh, he turned open the cover of the book and read the title page out unwillingly. "_'Hours of Idlen__ess', George Gordon, Lord Byron__" _He groaned!

He thumbed through many pages deciding which one to read - came to this one and stopped.

"_The First Kiss of Love_" He read the title of the poem out loud.

"Oh! This is one of my favorites!" Emma tucked her feet neatly under herself on the sofa, smoothed her elegant nightgown, and folded her hands on her lap prettily, waiting for George to begin with quiet expectation.

A deep breath, "Ahem" he cleared his throat and began…

"_Away with you fictions of flimsy romance," _his voice was stiff, "_Those tissues of falsehood which folly was wove!" _He made a sneering sound which made Emma slapped his arm. He frowned at her then continued, "_Give me the mild beam of the soul–breathing glance, Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love."_

He shook his head and took another deep breath to begin the second verse.

"_Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow, Whose pastoral passions are made of the grove; From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow, Could you ever tasted the first kiss of love!"_

"Hum!" Emma sighed, "George my dear…" he looked at her with curiosity, "You know… this is poetry… not obituary – it is supposed to be _romantic_… not _dead_!"

He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat again, might have even mumbled some complaints under his breath, but Emma did not hear him.

"_If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse, Or the Nine be disposed from your service to rove,"_ his voice seemed more relaxed, _"Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse, And try the effect of the first kiss of love."_ He saw the approving smile on her lovely face and went on with more conviction.

"_I hate you, ye cold composition of art!" _His voice grew louder, _"Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove," _his volume peaked and softened again, _"I court the effusions that spring from the heart,"_ he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, _"Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love."_

"_Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes," _His smile was tender and his heart was warm, for shepherds and flocks reminded him of he and his precious Emma, _"Perhaps may amuse, yet they never can move: Arcadia displays but a region of dreams;" _he gazed into her eyes with love and admiration, and his voice so gentle when he said,_ "What are visions like these to the first kiss of love." _

Smitten by his sultry gaze, she hugged his arm tight and smiled her sweetest smile.

"_Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth"_ he called out feelingly_," From Adam till now, has with wretchedness strove;"_ he pressed her hand on his pounding heart, "_Some portion of paradise still on earth,"_ stealing an enamored glance at her bewitching eyes, _"And Eden revives in the first kiss of love."_ He brought her soft hand to brush his lips and cheeks, then resting it on his heart to feel its beats.

She blushed - the beautiful blush of a woman in love!

Carelessly he let the script slipped out of his hand onto the sofa.

"_When age chills the blood,"_ his voice was soft as the summer evening breeze, _"when our pleasures are past –" _he leaned his face close to feel her silky hair, with his gentle hand he stroked her swanlike neck – his warm breath tingled her body and soul as he whispered softly into her ear – she closed her eyes and breathed!

"_For years fleet away with the wings of the dove –" _he pressed his lips on the back of her ear, then gliding down to kiss her shivering neck, _"The dearest remembrance" _he paused - gazing into her eyes with his longing soul _"will __still be the last," _his hands cradling her feverish cheeks, his mouth whispering kisses on her fluttering eyelids – breathlessly she breathed these words, "I thought… you didn't like Byron!"

"Ssshh!" He hushed a tender finger on her enticing lips and whispered, "I still don't like Byron…" muffling his face in her luscious tresses, inhaling deeply her enchanting scent to quench the thirst of a lover's desire; softly and tenderly into her ear he breathed, "but I love you Emma!"

Desperately he brought the poem to its end, _"Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love."_

And at once - his starving lips seized her longing ones and sealed them with their tender kisses of love!

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading this very long chapter!:) The next chapter, the epilogue, will be the last update, I hope I could have it up in couple weeks.


	29. Epilogue

_**A Lady and a 'Gentleman'**_

_**Chapter Twenty Nine – Epilogue**_

* * *

The journey home was not nearly as bad as the journey to Kingston. With George by her side holding her hand, squeezing it gently once every few moments, no little rabbit hopping suddenly onto the road causing the slightest mishap, and the flood damage on the road had been repaired, Emma felt quite certain that she would make it home safely in one piece. George, however, did make James stop the carriage several times during the journey so that Emma could take small rests, stretch her legs and settle her stomach, for he knew by experience that if they had not stopped for the rests, they would have stopped for her to 'pour out her stomach' anyway – this just made it all the more pleasant for everyone, particularly his beloved wife.

"Oh! There's Papa!" Emma cried out excitedly as the carriage approached the Hartfield front gate. Mr. Woodhouse was standing by the gate waving eagerly at the incoming carriage of his estate.

"Why would your father be waiting outside at the gate?" George was surprised, "I might have seen him stepping out of the front door couple times waiting for Isabella and John in the past, but never, ever had I seen him waited for anyone at the gate, Emma!"

Emma giggled, "Did I not tell you that Papa took four rounds, _four rounds_ at the garden the morning after he told me the reason he hid Mama's letter from me and Isabella?"

"_Four rounds_" he almost could not believe his ears, "your father had a difficult time keeping up with his three rounds even on his good days, four rounds is indeed unheard of… but I suppose it is a good thing!"

"It is a _very _good thing! Remember how you always tell me honesty is the best policy and complete truth always sets us free?" She looked him brightly in the eyes and saw a very satisfied smile.

"I think the very secret had kept Papa depressed all these years! Now that the truth had come out and he is freed of his distress, the lightness of his heart must have spilled over to his feet!" She looked out the window, waving at her father with her loving smile.

"After being by your father's side steadfastly all your life, you know him even better than he knows himself. I have to agree with your keen observation, Emma!"

The carriage slowed down on the graveled road leading to the turning circle in front of the house and the horses gradually came to a halt. Mr. Woodhouse, in his faster than usual pace, was doing his best to reach the stationed carriage.

George opened the door, stepped out, turned around and handed Emma out of the carriage.

"Papa!" Her father had finally reached the carriage and Emma threw her arms around his neck. The indulgent father and his devoted daughter embraced each other in their most affectionate manner.

"Oh! Emma my dear!" Mr. Woodhouse gently pulled Emma away to look at her face, "Here you are my child! I've been worrying about you; let Papa take a good look at you."

"Humph..." he held onto his beloved daughter's shoulders, carefully examining her face, "My poor Emma... at least the colour on your face is not half bad!"

He then turned to George; the two gentlemen bowed cordially to each other. "Ah! Mr. Knightley, it is very good to have you home again. How long has it been?"

"It has been a fortnight, sir." George replied respectfully.

"Fortnight! _Poor_ Mr. Knightley! How could one bear the disgusting food on the road for a fortnight?"

"It was not so bad, Papa! The food at the inn was tolerable, in fact quite good at times!"

Sighing and shaking his head, "My dear Emma, always so gentle and kind even with your criticism!" Mr. Woodhouse continued to lament, "How could the food at any public establishment be as wholesome as what we serve at Hartfield!" The young couple exchanged secret glances, knowing too well that nothing could convince Mr. Woodhouse's bias when it came to his culinary discernment.

"Come, Mr. Knightley, do let me take a good look at you." Now it was George's turn to be examined. "Humph… and you don't look half bad yourself neither," Mr. Woodhouse sounded surprised "I suppose dear Emma had taken very good care of you, Mr. Knightley!" George smiled and nodded.

"No, Papa! It was _Mr. Knightley _who took great care of me!" Emma jumped in, wanting to do her husband justice; but George shook his head discreetly, mouthing _"It's all right!" _to Emma over her father's head.

"Sir, I see that you are looking exceeding well yourself!" said George jovially, "Have you been taking an extra round of the garden as Emma said?"

Mr. Woodhouse grinned smugly, "Ah! How kind of you to notice my improved colour, Mr. Knightley! Mr. Perry made the very same comment yesterday and he attributed it to the extra round of the garden indeed! You know…" the old gentleman lowered his voice as was afraid that others might hear his unprecedented discovery, "I had never thought that a change would bring so much improvement to my health… I have not felt this strong for over… over eighteen years!"

"Congratulations, sir - for discovering that _change_ can be a very good thing!"

Mr. Woodhouse nodded contently and went on with determination, "Now, you two must come in and have a bowl of gruel that Serle has specially made for you - after having all those awful food for so long, gruel is the best way to cleanse your digestive systems!"

The young couple respectfully let the old gentleman walked in front of them.

When Mr. Woodhouse was out of earshot, George leaned close to Emma and whispered, _"Some things never change!"_

The happy couple shared their mischievous winks of the eyes and a quiet laughter, twined their fingers and walked obediently behind their beloved father and father-in-law to go inside the house.

* * *

**_Two weeks later… inside the Donwell Abbey library…_**

"Mr. Knightley, your last order from the Mitchell's has arrived." William Larkins said unaffectedly.

"Very well." George replied, looking over the accounts meticulously, then added, "And everything is in good order?"

"Yes sir, everything is in perfect order. If I may say so sir - you have outdone yourself this year."

"Thank you, William. I'm also very happy with the selections I made this year. Mitchell does have exceptional breeds."

"Especially on the last order, sir – that was indeed a rare pick!" William Larkins seldom expressed so much approval of anything.

George was very pleased, "Let's just say that it took the finest pair of eyes to pick the finest out of the fine!"

"William, could you please take this to the barn and give it to Joseph?" George handed a sealed envelope to William Larkins.

"Of course, sir. May I ask what this is about?"

"Just some instruction I need him to follow in the next couple days."

"Humph – Mr. Knightley…"

"Yes, William."

"Should I not be informed of _all_ things pertaining to the Donwell home farm?"

George smiled kindly, "Not this one, William."

"Oh!" William Larkins was surprised!

"Is there anything else Mr. Knightley?"

"Thank you William, I think that would be all."

"Very well then. Good-day, sir."

"Good-day, William."

* * *

**_Two days later… in the kitchen at Donwell Abbey…_**

"Ruth my dear… here is the last batch of the flowers you wanted…" A little out of breath, Mr. Hodges, the Donwell Abbey master gardener placed the last basket of flowers on the long kitchen worktable.

"Thank you dear! These are so lovely; you have done well this year, Mr. Hodges!" Mrs. Hodges smiled, admiring the fruit of her husband's faithful labour.

The Donwell Abbey gardener had indeed done well this spring. Out from his prized garden, Mr. Hodges had brought in yellow and violet blue Irises, gold and fuchsia Primroses, red and orange Tulips, pink and white Hyacinth, rare Crocuses in deep purple with white edges, beautiful English Bluebells, and Emma's favorite – yellow daffodils.

While Mrs. Hodges was busy arranging the beautiful flowers in vases and bouquets, Mrs. Mayson, the Donwell Abbey cook, had been bustling at the other side of the kitchen cutting, chopping, kneading, baking, stewing, stirring, mixing and remixing her creations to perfection for the special supper of the evening. It had been several months since the excellent cook and the very talented housekeeper of Donwell had the opportunity to show off their superior skills – and what made the occasion so special was that their beloved mistress was to dine and stay the night at the Abbey with their master!

"I have loved Mrs. Emma since she was a little girl – the most beautiful child one ever laid eyes on!" Mrs. Hodges reminisced while trimming the stems of the daffodils. "And so clever and rambunctious, too – it was amazing what a little rascal was hidden inside that beautiful child!"

Mrs. Mayson fondly recalled one of the many episodes of little Miss Emma's mischief, "I still remember how she ran head on into the simnel cake on that Easter morning! Do you remember how Mr. Woodhouse's face turned completely horrid?"

The two ladies burst into uncontrollable laughers at the image of Mr. Woodhouse spitting his tea out onto Mrs. Knightley's face and then apologized furiously over his younger daughter's mischief, as well as his own embarrassing mishap. It was said that the Woodhouses stayed away from the Knightleys for an entire month after that Easter morning!

"Those were the happier times at Donwell!" Mrs. Mayson let out a small sigh. "How I wish Mr. Knightley and Mrs. Emma would live at Donwell as they should… after all this is his home."

"I hear you Clare!" Mrs. Hodges sighed, too. "But who else in the world is more kind and understanding than our Mr. Knightley? And you know, as perfect as the match between Mr. Knightley and Miss Emma, they could not have married unless Mr. Knightley was to remove to Hartfield… I suppose one house's lost is another house's gain… we should be happy for them!"

Mrs. Mayson stopped kneading her dough, "I thought it was the Randalls' missing turkeys that made Mr. Woodhouse changed his mind…"

Mrs. Hodges thought for a moment, "Humph… now that you mentioned it… I think you are right, Clare!"

"You know Ruth… what I still don't understand is that while the Randalls' poultry-house was robbed, some turkeys suddenly showed up in our poultry-house and then disappeared again…strange, wasn't it?" Mrs. Mayson looked perplexed.

"I thought it was strange too," Mrs. Hodges shrugged her shoulders, "but then Mr. Knightley told me not to worry about the extra turkeys, he said to leave them in the poultry-house and they would find their way home again. And he was right… mysterious turkeys!" (*)

A pause came on while Mrs. Mayson resumed kneading her dough and Mrs. Hodges completing another bouquet.

"Oh… I finally saw what Mr. Knightley got Mrs. Emma!" Mrs. Mayson suddenly perked up, looking at Mrs. Hodges with twinkling eyes, "What a _present_ he has bought her – I wish my old Mayson would give me a gift like that!"

Mrs. Hodges stifled a laugh.

"Remember Clare," Mrs. Hodges looked serious, "Mr. Knightley told me not to say a _word_ to anyone…you must keep your mouth shut!"

"Of course Ruth. You know you can always trust me." Mrs. Mayson replied dryly, punching down the dough.

"I'm glad!" Sounding relieved, Mrs. Hodges picked up one of the finished bouquets and left the kitchen.

* * *

**_The next day at Donwell Abbey, in the bedchamber of George and Emma…_**

"Wake up, Emma!" George leaned close and spoke softly into her ear, swiping her disarrayed tresses off her beautiful face and pressing a very tender kiss on her rosebud lips.

She twisted her mouth into a smile, but would not stir more.

"Wake up, Emma… it's time!" He said again softly, his thumb gently caressing her cheek, leaning close again to soak in her enchanting scent.

She moaned and shifted a little, pressing her cheek against his warm hand and smiled.

"Wake up, my love… it's time!" He said the third time, in a little louder but still tender voice.

"_Hum_…" She opened one eye slightly to peek the surroundings - George had changed, and his loving smile made her happy, and then she saw the candle next to their bed glowing in the dark room, she asked, "… George… it's so dark… what time is it?" She yawned, stretching her arms.

"It's four o'clock." He took her hand in his.

"Four o'clock already…have I slept that long? How could it be so dark in the afternoon?" She complained, closing her eye again.

"No, Emma, it's four in the morning!"

"Four in the _morning_!" she groaned, still unwilling to open her eyes, "George, what on earth are you doing up so early?"

"I have a surprise for you!"

"A _surprise_!" Her eyes flung open as she bounced straight up sitting in bed.

George chuckled.

"But you despise surprises, George!" She could not help but wonder, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

"Not when it is the right kind of surprise!" He pinched her nose gently.

"Of course, the _right _kind!" Her sleepiness disappeared instantly.

"What is it then? Where is it? Tell me quick George" she started searching the bed, "I love surprises… is it under the pillow… under the bed… or is it inside the dressing room… where is it George?"

His chuckles grew even more jovial.

"It is not in the house," he pulled her up from the bed and hugged the enticing curve of her small waist, "you must get dress so that we could go to it."

"Please ring the bell for Betty…I need her help to get dressed!"

"That won't do, Emma. It will take too long for Betty to come in – I can help you get dressed." George said it in all seriousness.

But Emma giggled!

"_Ahem_… George, you know that _dressing_ and _undressing_ me are two very different things, don't you?" She teased him with a kiss on his cheek and went on saucily, "It takes _patience_ to dress a lady, Mr. Knightley! I doubt that even _you_ have _that_ kind of patience!"

George replied with a wicked grin, "My _dearest_ Mrs. Knightley, let me set the record straight – as your husband, I can assure you that it takes _much _more patience to _un__dress_ you than anything else, _if_ you know what I mean!"

Emma blushed!

George found her blush too beautiful to resist and allowed himself to scatter kisses on her tender lips before embarking the mission of dressing his lovely wife.

* * *

**_An hour later…_**

"Are we there yet?' Emma asked impatiently. They had walked almost a mile from the Abbey and still no surprise in sight.

"Be patient Emma, it won't be long."

"What kind of surprise is it that you need to hide it more than a mile from the house, George? And so early, too!"

He chuckled.

"You will see very soon, Emma!"

They had reached the bottom of a hill when he said, "We are almost there, Emma – it is on the other side of the hill."

Emma frowned in dismay, 'What? It's all the way on the other side of the hill!"

He laughed and she was not happy with his laugh!

"Don't worry my love – it's not that far."

They now almost reached the top of the hill. George stopped and reached into his coat pocket pulling out a neckcloth, while Emma wondered what the neckcloth was for!

"Turn around Emma, I need to cover your eyes."

"_Ooooh!_' She clapped her hands with joy, "We are getting close, are we not? But wait… how am I going to walk up the hill if you cover my eyes?"

"I will carry you up to the hill top." George said as he tied the cloth around her eyes.

Emma smiled sweetly, "Hum… I like that!"

So George lowered himself to a squatting pose to let his blindfolded Emma climbed on his back slowly. She happily wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as he carried her the short distance to reach the top of the hill, where he gently laid her feet on the ground, turned her to the proper direction and then untied the cloth around her eyes.

"You may open your eyes, Emma!"

And she did…

It was very early, the sun was still below the horizon, but its rays beneath had begun to seep through the morning twilight, turning the lower part of the dark blue sky orange and red. Her eyes first rested on the soothing sky on the verge of breaking sunrise, but were soon drawn to the shimmering cottages on the foot of the hill - the burning candle lights shining through the windows of the cottages like numerous speckles of golden oil paint splattered all over a dark blue canvas.

She could see from the top of the hill, in sizes as small as green peas and corn kernels, the occupants of the cottages emerging out of their homes at the same time, carrying tools of their farmer's trade in their hands and on their shoulders; there were mamas and papas, mostly with their older children and grown sons and daughters, leaving behind their youngsters in the care of the grandparents. The villagers greeted one another cheerfully as old friends and acquaintances always did, their steps were jaunty and energetic as they headed toward the fields seemingly in great expectation. From the way they turned their heads often to speak to their fellow villagers, the way they laughed and patted each other on the backs, and the way they smiled jovially (though too small for Emma to see, she could well imagine it in her vivid mind) Emma could tell that this was how a typical farmer began his typical day in his typical attitude – so early, so simple, so joyful, so content!

Although Emma was really a far away stranger observing the scene from top of the hill, she could feel the warmth of the villagers spreading from the foot hill all the way to her heart!

"Emma…" George gently interrupted her quiet admiration of the scene.

She turned and looked at him with glittering eyes.

"These are the Donwell tenants… are they not, George?"

He nodded.

"Why did you not tell me that you were taking me to see your tenants?" Her eyes were welling up.

"I wanted you to feel how I felt the first time!" He turned his gaze to the foot of the hill. "This was my father's favourite lookout point all his life. My great grandfather first took my grandfather here at this time of the morning, then my grandfather took my father here the same way; and then my father took me here when I was thirteen the very same way.

"He did not tie my eyes with a neckcloth, but he covered my eyes with his hands and let me opened them to see what you saw – I think it must be the tradition for the firstborn sons in the Knightley's family. I still remember clearly what my father told me that morning, he said, _'Son – remember this sight, imprint it in your mind, lock it in your heart, and never let anything distract you – because __they__ will be your responsibilities one day, and __you__ shall treat and care for the Donwell people like your own family_.'"

Tears were streaming down Emma's face.

George turned Emma to face him, placing his hands on her shoulders, and looking into her eyes intently, "When you first told me that you wanted to see my world, I had wanted to take you here… but I had to find the right opportunity and time to do it."

He took out his handkerchief to wipe her teary eyes, and said tenderly, "My most beloved Emma, you don't need to go to Kingston to see my world," turning his gaze to the village, he smiled, "_this _is my world!"

Resting her head on his chest, he held her tightly in his arms for quite some time until her tears dried.

"Come, Emma!"

"Where are we going?"

"To your surprise!"

"What?" She asked disbelievingly. "Are you… are you sure, George? Two surprises in one morning! You… you are going to spoil me, you know that, don't you?"

He laughed!

"Well, if you deserved to be lectured as Miss Woodhouse, you certainly deserve to be spoiled being Mrs. Knightley!"

* * *

**_Twenty minutes later…_**

They had come to a point where they still could not see their destination but yet not far from it. Once again, George pulled out his neckcloth, and without a word, Emma turned herself around, closed her eyes, willingly subjecting herself under her beloved husband's manipulation.

With her eyes covered securely, he carried her for a distance and then laid her feet on the ground to let her stand.

She smiled with great anticipation, but without the slightest hint of what was installed. There were noises, but she would rather be thrilled when she opened her eyes than venturing to guess.

He opened a door which made a suspenseful creaky sound.

He led her to walk a few yards and then stopped. She could hear more noises, but refused to guess. He swiveled her several times before allowing her to stand firm and removing the covers from her eyes.

"You may open your eyes, Emma!" He said a little nervously, hoping she would like what she was about to see.

Emma blinked her eyes to adjust her vision…

When her vision was clear she saw what stood in front of her – a beautiful beast with a colourful spring garland, which she recognized as the skillful work of Mrs. Hodges, around her neck standing contently in her clean and comfortable stall. Staring straight at her new owners, the beast first bade good morning to them with her large brown eyes and long black lashes, and then in her carefree spirit, she said…

"_Mooooo…"_

"Oh! George!" Emma turned to George with the sweetest and brightest smile, covering her heart with her hands, she exclaimed, "You bought me Patsy all the way from Kingston!"

George's nervous expression was fully replaced by a self-congratulated smile.

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck and said, "Thank you, George!"

"I hope you like your surprise Emma…" He went on sheepishly, "I know a dairy cow can hardly be considered romantic… but Patsy was the dairy cow that gave you your first milking experience, and let you taste the fruit of your own labour – she is very special to me, and I hope that she is just as special to you!"

She looked up at him with a smile that could rival the rising sun, "This is the _best_ gift I have _ever_ had, George! I _love_ Patsy and she is every bit as special to me as to you!"

Her hazel eyes sparkled as she looked at him - he read what was on her mind and nodded.

In his own sunny smile, George said, "Joseph had already scrubbed and groomed Patsy spotlessly for you, along with all the equipment that you need. You could try your hand anytime you want."

George removed the shawl from Emma's shoulders, helped her rolled up her sleeves. She sat down on the small wooden bench, placed the shinny tin bucket under Patsy's udder, recalling the instruction from Farmer Mitchell, Emma placed her hands firmly on Patsy's teats and began squeezing rhythmically. Before long and without much effort, silky fluid began to flow smoothly from the beautiful beast, filling the bucket to the rim.

Emma took a ladleful of the fresh milk and slurped a tasty mouthful. Feeling completely satisfied – both at the taste of the sweet milk and the fruit of her own labour, she sighed dreamily, "_Hum_…" licking her lips and putting on the most content grin!

George loved the self-indulgent look on his beloved Emma's face, his grin was so wide that it spread from ear to ear!

"May I have a taste of your labour, Emma my love?" He could not resist.

Her eyes twinkled possibilities and her smile screamed mischief, "_Of course!"_

She bent down and scooped another ladleful of the silky fluid, swallowed a big gulp, and then sank her lips into the ladle leaving her crimson lips fully covered with the white milk.

"Here George…" she looked up at him with her milky lips and a rascally smile, "you can have as _much_ as you want!"

She stood on the tip of her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck pressing herself against him, and without further ado – bringing her milky lips to meet his smiling ones, indulging him with the sweetness of his labour of love.

Perhaps in her maiden days Emma had once thought that romance must be like the poetry of Lord Byron, lured with unattainable love and impossible passion. But now, if she was to define romance, it would have to include something like… first deep love of course… then honour, kindness, generosity, humility, grace, thoughtfulness, loyalty, chivalry… she could go on and on and on. George might think that a diary cow, or anything that he did for that matter, could hardly be considered romantic, but Emma would insist that the world stood no other gentleman more romantic than her very own George – for no man could touch her heart the way he did; and she would never ever trade, not even for a million impassionate Byrons, her one and only knightly Knightley!

**~ The End ~**

* * *

**A/N**: I thank those who have submitted reviews, they were a wonderful source of encouragement and I never take any of them for granted! Also thank those who have been reading silently, I would have loved to hear from you, but truly appreciate your interest in this story! And thank you all for reading! I bid you good health and happiness! :)

Reference:  
(*) The 'turkey' conversation between Mrs. Hodges and Mrs. Mayson was inspired by ChocolateIsMyDrug's fanfic 'The Mystery of the Missing Turkeys' (fanfic id:5905725)


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